


Major and Minor

by notanangelica



Series: Major and Minor [1]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Death, Eventual Death, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, Heavy Angst, Magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2019-10-28 23:18:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17796659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notanangelica/pseuds/notanangelica
Summary: In Vesuvia, Azrael finally thinks she's found a new home. Her aunt runs a popular magic shop, her best friend is a handsome, alluring magician that she might be falling in love with, and she's quickly becoming one of the most powerful witches to date. The Count may be a jerk, but life is really, really good.And then it isn't. Azrael isn't about to lose her home again...even if that means losing everything, and everyone, else. But at least she has a lanky, scatterbrained doctor to keep her company.





	1. Vesuvia

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Been awhile since I've written fanfiction, so please, any comments, questions, critique, concerns, etc, are very welcome! As a note, spoilers will definitely be present in not only my notes, but the story too, especially if you haven't finished the game!
> 
> This particular fic is set pre-the Arcana Game, meaning it takes place before the Main Character (MC) dies. I've taken a lot of creative liberties, especially since we don't know much about the MC. But this is what I've somewhat pieced together based on information from the devs, the YouTube playthroughs, and replaying the game over and over again. As such, I've decided that Azrael and her aunt hail from a country called Galicia (fantasy Spain in my head), and so their native language is Galician (Spanish).
> 
> There will be romance, action, adventure, and sweet, sweet ANGST. Oh, and of course some lovely smut down the road, so stay tuned.
> 
> Final note: I'm sorry not much is going on in this chapter! It's mostly just an introduction to the MC and her aunt, with a quick appearance from Asra. But I promise, there will be a lot more character interaction in the next chapter! Thanks for reading! :D

Vesuvia’s bustling sprawl of a kingdom was somewhat reminiscent of Galicia. It was colorful, busy, warm, with the main difference being in the generous amount of foreign languages that hit Azrael’s ears as she stepped down onto the cool dock. She knew many of the words, thanks to Thalia, and optimistically smiled at the thought of finally being able to practice speaking with other people. Galicia seemed to be stocked with people who only spoke Galician. Or at least…it was.

She shook the thought away. While Az hadn’t outright promised her aunt that she’d stay as optimistic as possible in this new country, she knew it would not only do the older woman some good, it would do Azrael good too. Remember the past, but never lose yourself to it. That’s what Thalia always reminded her.

“Azrael,” Thalia called faintly from behind the girl. Az spun, inky black hair trailing behind her as she rushed back to help her aunt with some luggage. It wasn’t much, there hadn’t been time to grab much, but Thalia didn’t have the best joints in the world.

“Sorry, _sorry_ ,” Azrael immediately picked up one of the heavier bags with a sheepish smile.

Thalia was used to her niece being scatterbrained, and smiled serenely. While it wasn’t the older woman’s preferred method of exploration, she knew there was nothing she could do to change Azrael’s way of absorbing the world. Besides, if Az was happy, that was all that mattered. The girl had suffered enough tragedy.

“So, where to?” Azrael asked, making up for her aunt’s usual silence. As far as the girl knew, the pair had no where to go. Even if they had chosen to go to Nevivon instead, they would be just as alone. Azrael had Thalia, and Thalia had Azrael. That was how things had been for as long as the girl could remember.

Thalia scanned through the crowds, her golden gaze unfocused for a few moments before she suddenly lifted a hand, and pointed to the right. “There,” she nodded, satisfied with the pull of destiny that led her along the cobbled streets.

All the while, Azrael walked happily next to her aunt. She watched the sea birds fan out overhead, and smiled at the children who ran to and fro between skirts and legs. While her Vesuvian was somewhat rusty, having had few opportunities to practice it back home, Az picked up several pieces of scattered conversation about some…party? Royal ball? Masquerade? She wasn’t sure, but everyone who mentioned the event was very excited for it.

“Tía Thalia, what is everyone talking about? What’s a _Mas-ca-rey?_ ”

As the two walked along, drawing the eye of many Vesuvians to Thalia’s amusement, she smiled down at her niece. “ _Masquerade_ , mijita,” she enunciated for Azrael. “It’s a big party. People wear costumes, and they put on masks—” she covered most of her face with her free hand, leaving an eye exposed, “—so the party becomes very mysterious.”

The girl soaked in the information with curious, lavender eyes, blinking her dark lashes up at her aunt. “Like when we celebrate Santa Muerte back home?”

Thalia nodded once. “It’s similar. People drink and dance and cause mischief,” the older woman teased. “But instead of painting the face like a skeleton, there are masks instead. That's where it gets its name: _Mask_ -erade.”

Azrael accepted the explanation without any further questions, just smiled to herself as visions of beautiful strangers twirling around in exquisite masks danced in her head. The thought of actually attending such an event barely crossed her mind, and besides, it probably wasn’t open to any common person.

Thalia and Azrael continued walking in no particular direction for a few hours. At least, Azrael figured they had no particular direction, but she knew better than to try and dissect her aunt’s magic. The woman was powerful and mysterious, and it made the girl love her aunt all the more. Along the way, they talked to several strangers in passing, tried a few interesting treats with the money Thalia had managed to stow on their journey, and were otherwise perfectly content not knowing where they would sleep that night.

The late morning turned into later afternoon, and Azrael noticed that there were less people on the streets the farther along the pair walked. They were some distance from the docks now, and the crowded markets, and came to an area clustered with what looked like small businesses and dainty houses. Az smiled as they came around a bend and were met by a large fountain where a pair of children were playing.

As Azrael and Thalia came into view, the children’s heads darted up, and they stared. Az stared back, tilting her head in confusion as the two suddenly got up and dashed into the alley without a word.

Still, the area felt quaint, and safe. They continued walking on for a little while longer, then Thalia made a hard right down a set of stairs, and around another corner.

They were met by a small man muttering to himself as he put a ‘For Sale’ sign up on the old, unpainted door of a small shop.

“Perdóname,” Thalia cleared her throat, causing the man to sputter and turn. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

The man shook his head. “Oh no, you’re quite fine, ma’am. I was just uh…” he sighed, shaking his head. “Can’t seem to find anyone to take this bloody shop off my hands.” He ran a hand through his hair, shook his head at the shop door again, and then looked back at Thalia and Azrael. He blinked though, as if he had really just noticed them. “You two aren’t from around here.”

Thalia and Azrael both shook their heads, but it was Thalia who spoke up. “No. We’ve traveled quite a long way.”

The man nodded, then looked at the sign again, and back to the pair. He laughed to himself. “You wouldn’t happen to be in the market for a new shop, would ya?”

Az started to shake her head, but blinked wide when her aunt said, “How much are you asking for?”

The man was visibly surprised, brown eyes wide. But he was excited too, and smiled as he named a price. Azrael had no idea if that was a lot of money or not, but she watched her aunt all the while, curious eyes glinting with observation. Thalia simply smiled, serene as ever, and withdrew one of her coin purses. She then proceeded to dump out almost the entire contents.

The man held up his hands. “Oh no ma’am, this is far more than what I’m asking for.”

Thalia knew that. But she also knew it wouldn’t be long before she and Azrael were able to make that amount back and more. Besides, the man was being so friendly, and the woman knew it would be good for her and Azrael to have at least one friend so quickly.

Without another word, she handed the money to the man, and he smiled wide, looking incredibly relieved. “That’s very kind of you, uh…”

“Thalia Zamorar,” she smiled, and then gestured to her niece. “And this is Azrael, my niece. We’re thankful for your kindness.”

“The pleasure is all mine. Oh, I’m Maury by the way," he quickly reached out to enthusiastically shake the woman's hand. "And…now, I know the place is nothing to look at right now, but I promise, I’ll be back first thing in the morning to help you two get more settled! But uh,” he laughed to himself again. “My missus will be missing me, and I want to tell her the good news.”

Thalia shook her head. “Your wife is important. We’ll see you in the morning,” she smiled as Maury quickly put the money into his own coin purse, took the sign off the door, and handed the key to Thalia. He was gone shortly after, disappearing down another side street with a spring in his step.

Azrael and Thalia turned to the shop as Az twirled a strand of dark hair around her finger. “Are you sure he’ll be back?”

Her aunt shrugged as she unlocked the door. “It doesn’t matter if he returns. We have a roof over our heads, and can start earning out keep in this country.”

Thalia smiled affectionately at her aunt and nodded. “You’re right—” but she didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence as a flash of purple caught her eye from the alley opposite where Maury had disappeared to. They were far away, but she made out the shape of the two children from the water fountain, and a third figure with…white hair?

“Azrael,” Thalia called from inside the shop, causing the girl to take her eyes off the trio. When she looked back, the two children were gone, and unfortunately, so was the person with the white hair.

"Coming!" the girl called, eyes still lingering on where the figure had been standing. Az couldn't help but notice that In their place was the familiar glint of magic, and she smiled, somehow certain they'd meet again soon.


	2. A Fox and a Raven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, there's more Az backstory, but ALSO some beginning interaction with several characters: Asra and Ludovico, with mentions to Lucio, Nadia, and...well, who IS this new mystery man? We'll find out! But for sure, this is basically it for all the story set-up, so be ready for the REAL character interaction in chapter 3!
> 
> There's some general The Arcana notes at the end too, mostly about the timeline I've put together for this fanfic. Feel free to take a look, and as always, thanks for reading! :D

Maury was true to his word. In the morning, he returned to the shop with some tools and paint, and a large smile spread across his face. He told Thalia and Azrael that his wife Rosie had been thrilled when he told her he’d sold the shop. Ever since the Count had taken power, it seemed like no one could ever make enough money to live. But Thalia’s generosity had not only earned her Maury’s friendship, it had earned the friendship of Rosie, and the couple’s two children as well. Once the place was fixed up, they’d be by for a proper visit.

The next couple of weeks were spent redoing the otherwise abandoned property. Maury kept apologizing for the lack of upkeep, but Thalia and Azrael were ecstatic to have a place to call their own. Az and Maury did most of the work, seeing as Thalia couldn’t move very well these days, but the woman more than made up for it with copious amounts of tea, food, and stories. And the girl had never been shy about doing work if it made their lives a little easier.

During that time Az didn’t see the two children from their first day, but there were several moments she was sure she caught the flash of purple the white-haired figured seemed to leave behind. There were two times, in fact, that she was sure she saw the figure behind the shop. But every time Azrael was sure she would catch them, the person vanished.

In any case, before Azrael could believe it, the shop had taken a life of its own. It was repainted, furniture had been moved in, and the shelves had been stacked with tomes, teas, and talismans. Thalia had even managed to save the ritual cloth her sister had given her so long ago, when Azrael was born, and the colorful, enchanted fabric now rested across the shop’s front counter. Maury had promised the pair he could find them a nice place to live, but Thalia and Azrael were thrilled to both sleep and work in the same place. They didn’t need anything else.

The weekend before the masquerade, Maury finally brought Rosie and the kids to visit. The shop had been done a few days prior, and Thalia and Azrael had been in Vesuvia for about a month. In that time, they’d met several of their neighbors, and were already gaining a positive reputation for their special kind of medicine and wares.

“Thalia, Az, I’d like you two to meet my wife Rosie, my son Ludovico, and my daughter Kiera. Rosie, kids, this is Thalia and her niece Azrael.”

All pleasantries were exchanged, and Thalia set out tea cups and a tray of treats for the kids to devour while the adults talked away. In that time, Azrael noted two things. One, the kids really weren’t much younger than her—in fact, Ludovico may have been older, she wasn’t sure—and two, these were the same kids from the water fountain. It was also obvious by the way they were avoiding Az’s eyes that they recognized her too.

She so desperately wanted to ask them who that white-haired figure was, but figured it might be best to wait. Besides, now that she knew they were Maury’s children, she had a feeling she’d run into them again at some point.

Azrael’s attention was drawn away from the mystery of the white-haired figure when Rosie mentioned something about the masquerade. Az had found out that, surprisingly, the event would be open to the general public, and she was still trying to figure out how to ask her aunt for permission to attend.

“Maury and I missed last year, unfortunately. Kiera is very prone to illness, so we stayed home to take care of her. But we’re all well this year,” Rosie continued with a wide smile. “And I so do love the masquerade.”

Thalia smiled back, but her expression was uncharacteristically guarded. That was never a good sign, and it made Azrael worried that her aunt would ask Azrael to stay home.

Still, the older woman nodded as she sipped her tea, absentmindedly swirling the tea leaves around the bottom of the cup as she thought. “It doesn’t sound like a place for the young ones.”

But Maury waved his hand dismissively. “There are sections of the palace that are perfectly equipped for children. And besides, Kiera is the youngest here and has attended before. I’m sure Ludo and Azrael are more than capable of taking care of themselves. You’re of age too, yes?” he suddenly looked at Az.

She blinked, but nodded. “I just turned eighteen a few months ago,” she remarked. Legally, that did make her an adult now, but Azrael really didn’t think of herself as grown-up. Not to mention Thalia was heavily of the mindset that eighteen was just a number.

“Well, there you go! You should both come!” Maury went on.

The conversation switched around, with the adults discussing more grown-up matters like the Count’s greediness, and the plans he apparently had to take a wife from Prakra. These were things Azrael wasn’t as concerned with, and so she excused herself to take a walk.

“Azrael, dear, would it be alright if Ludo and Kiki went with you? You three can get to know each other better,” Rosie asked before Az could leave, and who was she to say no?

Actually, this would be a good chance to have some of her questions answered. “Of course, Mrs. Henceforth. Ludovico, Kiera, you two can show me around,” the girl smiled with just a hint of cunning in her eyes.

Ludo and his sister exchanged a glance, but nodded, heading out after Azrael.

“Well…I can show you the fastest path to the palace. There’s always cool stuff to do there,” Ludo announced once they had walked a little past the shop.

Azrael nodded, noting how the siblings seemed tense. _Better to ask now I suppose_ …she thought, then stopped, crossing her arms over her chest. Ludo and Kiki stopped too, and looked at Az with shy expressions. “What are you two hiding?” she got straight to the point.

“What are you talking about? We don’t even know you guys,” Ludo huffed, but didn’t quite meet Azrael’s eyes.

Az rolled her eyes. “I saw you two at the fountain when my aunt and I came here. And then you had that…white-haired stranger with you. Who was that?”

Kiera and Ludovico exchanged glances. In the next few moments, an entire, silent conversation passed between the pair. Kiera shrugged a few times, Ludo shook his head often, and then both sighed. Kiera spoke this time, since Ludo seemed angry about whatever they’d just agreed on. “Can you keep a secret?” the girl asked, green eyes sheepish.

Azrael nodded.

“We can’t…tell you everything, okay? But my brother is friends with the Count, and Ludo kinda promised him something,” she started, much to Azrael’s surprise.

“What does that have to do with the white-haired person?” Az raised an eyebrow.

Ludo spoke this time, sighing and crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s friends with Muriel, some up-and-coming gladiator or something that the Count favors,” the boy explained. “But he keeps trying to get Muriel out of the life, far as I can tell. The Count just wants him to stop interfering.”

Azrael absorbed everything Ludovico told her, but was still just as confused about what was going on. “And…he’s connected to the shop because…?”

“Look, Lucio told me to either figure out what he wanted, or _make_ him leave Muriel alone. I just…I figured he was homeless and stuff, so I offered him a place to stay. But now that you and your aunt bought the shop…”

Ludo didn’t need to finish, Azrael understood it was all an exchange, one that would ultimately benefit this Count Lucio figure. The more the girl heard about Vesuvia’s ruler, the more she disliked him.

“Will Lucio be mad?” she asked.

Ludo and Kiera exchanged another glance before Ludo shrugged. “Dunno. Lucio doesn’t know yet, but whatever. Look, just ignore him, okay?”

“Who, Lucio?”

He shook his head. “No, Asra. That’s his name. If you wanna do yourself a favor, get into Lucio’s good graces. I mean, he’s the Count. But don’t get involved with some bum who’s only good at parlor tricks. He’s better off alone, and _you’re_ better off staying out of other people’s business.” The last bit was said through hard, squinted eyes. Kiera seemed less upset, but only looked away, not bothering to argue with her brother.

Az just shook her head. “I can make my own decisions. Thanks for the advice though, I know who to stay away from.” And with that, she turned on her heel, and headed up towards a path to the palace she’d found all on her own.

* * *

 

The day hadn’t wasted away entirely, the air only gathering a slight chill as late afternoon set in and cast shadows across the crowded streets of Vesuvia. The nighttime shops were opening along the long walk to the palace, the night market always bustling on a Saturday. Azrael could see that many of the vendors were trying to take advantage of the upcoming masquerade. Many stalls sold exquisite fabrics for costumes, masks in all sorts of colors, and trinkets and bobbles that would explode safely in small arrangements of light when you threw them into the air. It was all so enchanting, and reminded Az of the preparations people in Galicia made for the annual Santa Muerte celebration. Everything was drenched in color, with emphasis on black and white skeletons and offerings to the deceased.

As Azrael examined a skeleton mask adorned with a crown of flowers, she couldn’t help but miss her home country. she missed the lilting Galician as it wound through the streets, the smell of pan dulce on warm afternoons, and the thick, hot chocolate she always snuck from her aunt’s cup when the woman pretended she wasn’t watching. She lost herself for several moments, not realizing how dark it had gotten until the evening lanterns were lit along the stalls.

“You should buy it,” a sudden voice spoke from the other side of the stall.

Azrael couldn’t hide her surprise well, but it didn’t stop her from being curious. “And why is that?” she asked, trying to peer into the shadows. He was tall, but then again, most people were tall compared to her. Other than that, he was drenched in shadow, and Az could only make out the hint of a smile in the dark.

“I think you’d look beautiful in such a fine accessory,” he moved a bit, looking like he was going to come closer. But instead, he just reached forward towards some of the other masks, his hand hovering over one set in the triangular shape of a fox’s face, then briefly setting his hand upon one adorned in black feathers, before pulling his hand away. “But I’ll admit, I know very little about women’s fashion.”

The lavender-eyed girl looked around at the vendor, the other customers, but no one seemed to really be paying mind to her conversation with this stranger. Still, she’d be lying if she said the compliment didn’t cause her freckled cheeks to flush. Az set the mask down, fine as it may be, and tilted her head. “Why are you hiding yourself?”

He was silent for a moment, and then laughed. “Forgive me, but I like to remain a little mysterious. I’m…not really supposed to be in town, you see,” he explained, annoyingly adept at using the evening shadows to veil himself.

“Are you in some sort of trouble?” she asked, a little surprised at yet another person in some sort of trouble. Was it possible she was speaking with the white-haired man, Asra? It would make sense, he may have even followed her to the market. While the notion was a bit creepy though, Azrael was determined to uncover the truth, her curiosity always leading the way.

The man laughed again, and Az could just make out his head shake. “Ah, not exactly. I’m just someone the Count likes to have at his disposal from time to time. I’d never get any alone time if I always told him I was in town.”

Was everyone somehow wrapped up with Count Lucio?

“Let me see your face,” Azrael suddenly felt bold, and took a step towards the stranger.

He mirrored her with a step back, and a low, much more genuine laugh. “Not tonight, dear. Would take away from the mystery,” he began to back away farther into the shadows.

“Now you wait a minute—!” Azrael tried to keep up, but by the time she rounded the stall, he was gone. She sighed heavily, confused by the entire exchange…at least, that was until she saw a flash of white and purple much further down the alley.

“Hey wait!” she shouted, and bolted after the figure without another thought. It was impossible to think that the man she’d just been speaking with was suddenly so far ahead of her, but Azrael wasn’t fully thinking about that. Her main mystery in Vesuvia was figuring out this Asra person. This second mysterious figure would indeed have to wait for another night.

She bounded down the dark and chilly cobbled steps and streets, trying her best to keep up with the purple that was just always out of her reach. “Wait, please! I just…I just want to talk!” she tried to reason with him, but he kept getting farther and farther away. Before Azrael knew it, she was suddenly hitting sand instead of stone, the ocean waves not much farther away once the buildings stopped. But, unfortunately, there was no mysterious man in sight.

Azrael grumbled to herself as she breathed heavily, trying to relax after the sudden exercise. She plopped down on the sand, sighing as the waves washed over the moonlight-drenched shoreline several yards away.

The waters of Vesuvia were darker than Galicia. In fact, this whole country seemed darker somehow, and Azrael wasn’t sure why.

But she had the heavy feeling that she too would eventually be drawn in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Arcana notes (SPOILERS AHEAD): I'm basing a lot of this on an incomplete timeline I've put together after reading the wiki pages. So far, we know Julian cut off Lucio's arm because of some mercenary-related injuries. We don't know if Lucio was Count at that time, but that doesn't matter right this second. We know Asra's parents, Aisha and Salim, made Lucio's new arm when Asra was a kid. This means several things -- Asra is younger than Julian, who is already practicing medicine. Asra's parents are gone because Lucio already has the prosthetic arm when he becomes Count (Asra spends most of his childhood on the streets, meaning his parents are already missing/in the dungeons). Asra and Muriel are young when they meet, and Asra is a little older when he meets the MC. Julian and Lucio have known each other for a long time, meaning Julian has probably been to Vesuvia several times.
> 
> Again, all speculation, but you guys can check the wiki pages too. As such, if something is off, or if I'm missing something, please let me know! As always, comments, questions, concerns, and commentary always welcome! Thanks :D


	3. The Fox

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 is here! As you guys have noticed, I'm pumping out chapters pretty quickly. I'm hoping to keep up this sort of momentum, so as of now, there will definitely be an update every 2-3 days. If this changes and I get really busy, I'll definitely let you guys know!
> 
> We finally have main character interaction in this chapter! And the first masquerade where Asra and the MC meet! But our mystery man also strikes once more! Again, I've taken creative liberties with the timeline, so check the end notes if you want to read more about that. As always, thanks for reading!

The week rolled by faster than Azrael had hoped. In the days that followed her encounter with the dark man and the white-haired man, she’d tried her best to figure out how to ask her aunt to attend the masquerade. No matter that she didn’t have any fancy dresses, or even a mask, the girl simply wanted a chance to fully immerse herself in the culture of her new home.

Well that, and her afternoon tea-leaf readings had been very encouraging about her attending the party.

A day before the event, Az knew she’d waited long enough. She had been tip-toeing around the shop all morning in a funk, her conversation small, her voice low, her eyes darting off to the clouds. It was obvious to Thalia that her niece wanted to ask her something, and it was even more obvious what that something was.

Thalia had nothing against parties. While the Santa Muerte celebrations in Galicia could cause quite a ruckus, she had never felt like Azrael would be unsafe running off to explore the colorful, candy- and music-filled streets of their home country. Not only was the girl mature for her age, she was powerful, and increasingly so. If worse came to worse, Azrael could always use her magic to protect herself.

But whereas Thalia knew Azrael would never have a reason to use her powers then, she had the sinking feeling she’d have to protect herself very soon. Maybe not at the masquerade, but Vesuvia seemed full of more secrets than Thalia could ever anticipate.

“Three teaspoons at breakfast and at bedtime. And do come back in a week so we can see how everything is going,” Thalia handed a dark green sachet to Elira, a woman who had taken to coming to Thalia for potions and remedies after Rosie directed her here. She had just gotten married, and her and her husband were excited to start a new family.

“Oh, thank you so much,” Elira smiled, bowing a bit as she started to head out. Then, “You’re the kindest, Thalia. You and your Azrael. Such kind witches—” but Elira stopped herself then, growing guilty and ashamed. “Oh…oh no, I didn’t mean witch as in… _bad_  or anything. I’m so sorry—”

Thalia smiled in her characteristically serene way. “Please, don’t worry yourself. In our home country, being called a  _bruja_ , a witch, is a good thing. We’re happy for the compliment,” she nodded as Elira sighed in relief and rushed out.

She took a deep breath, feeling restful now that all her appointments were done for the afternoon. But as Thalia turned to Azrael, who was sitting dejectedly in front of the stove salamander in silence, she sighed. “There is something on your mind, mija.”

Az’s eyes were clouded when her aunt addressed her. This was it, her time to ask, but she was so nervous of the ‘no’ she might receive. Instead of telling Thalia the truth, she cleared her throat, and asked, “Why is  _witch_  a bad word in this country?”

“Some places in the world have started forgetting the old ways, the old gods. Magic is becoming a little scarcer now than it was before. Here, a witch is some old crone casting hexes in the woods. They prefer to use the term ‘magician.’” Thalia explained, knowing Azrael wasn’t being upfront. She sighed again, and took a seat next to her niece. “Really though, what is troubling you?”

Azrael looked away. “I don’t want you to say no.”

“No to what?” She knew.

Az looked back at her aunt, her voice a little bit pleading. The girl hated to beg for anything, Thalia was a wonderful guardian, who kept her safe, and allowed her to express herself. Asking for more always seemed selfish. Still, she knew she couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Please, can I go to the masquerade?”

The older woman’s heart felt heavy. Thalia knew if Azrael went to this masquerade, certain important events were to be set in motion. For as long as the woman could remember, she had read the tea leaves in the morning, the cards in the afternoon, and the stars at night. Thalia was adept at reading and divination, skills that Azrael had become more than proficient in too. But through years of practice, Thalia had found a connection to the other realms, and what the gods and spirits were saying. Since they’d come to Vesuvia, the cards had been vaguer, and more foreboding, of things that had not yet come to pass.

If Thalia kept Azrael here, maybe her niece would stay safe. But if Thalia kept Azrael here, she knew that not only would her niece resent the decision, Az would find a way to the party on her own. It was not a failing on Azrael’s part though, it was the insatiable craving of knowledge that Thalia had instilled in her niece. Information couldn’t hurt you the way people could.

As much as Thalia wanted to say no, she sighed. “Azrael…you’re a grown woman now. And I could never keep you from something I see you’re so excited for,” the woman smiled, but without the same serenity that usually glowed from her eyes.

Azrael barely noticed. She was ecstatic, immediately jumping up to start rambling on about the following night. “Oh my gods, I don’t even know what to wear! I mean…I know we don’t have much, but please, oh please!” she hopped over to her aunt, taking the woman’s hands and holding them tightly. “Help me decide what to wear!”

Thalia decided, that just for tonight, she’d put aside her worries. “Of course, mijita,” she nodded, and sent a silent prayer to the old gods that her niece would be safe.

* * *

 

The best they could do was the light blue dress Azrael usually only wore for special occasions, and some flowers in her hair—it was braided for once, instead of her usual pony-tail. But the girl was thrilled, without a care in the world about what kind of extravagant, mischievous antics she would get into. Regardless, as she looked in the mirror tucked away in the back of the alcove and saw herself, she couldn’t help but feel different.

“Que bonita,” Thalia smiled as she tucked the last flower in.

Azrael thought so too, with a certain confidence she hadn’t really knew existed in her chest. “Gracias, tía,” Az sighed, finishing outlining her eyes in dark coal. It made the lavender stand out like little beacons.

When she was finished, Thalia didn’t spend much time talking. She wished her niece well, kissed her forehead, and sent the girl out the door in the direction of the masquerade. Az had spent a good deal of time trying to convince her aunt to come as well, but Thalia shook her head each time, telling Azrael to enjoy her evening, and come home safe.

And as Thalia watched Az walk away, she clutched her chest, knowing things were going to change very quickly after tonight.

* * *

 

Azrael managed to make her own mask that year, inspired by Galicia, and the mask she’d seen at the market the week before. It was a skeleton, covering only her eyes, with flowers flowing out from the top to match the ones her aunt had threaded through her thick, black curls. She left it off as she headed towards the palace, noting that the closer she got, the more people joined her on their pilgrimage.

While she walked, she wondered if the white-haired man and the dark man would also be at the party tonight. She’d more than likely be able to pick out the former, but unfortunately, she still had no idea what the latter looked like.

Her thoughts though, were suddenly intruded upon by sudden fanfare behind her. Azrael, and many of the other spectators, stopped, looking around with confused, wild gazes. It would seem like the fanfare should be coming from in front of them, in the direction of the palace. But instead, it was behind them, coming up the main road very quickly.

The crowds began to murmur, and then shout. Az caught snippets of conversation, but what she heard more than anything else was that a carriage was approaching from Macawi port. To her surprise, that was the same port that Azrael and her aunt had come from when they’d first arrived in Vesuvia.

In any case, the crowd started to split, making room for the carriage to come through. It was still some distance away though, and the people swelled, excited by the mystery of the visitor and the allure of the masquerade. It was during this time, however, when Azrael spotted a familiar flash of purple, and white, and her wide gaze fell on the face of a man standing on the other side of the street looking directly at her.

“Asra,” Azrael whispered, as if the man could hear her. To the girl’s surprise, he  _did_  seem to hear her, and blinked wide, his deep purple irises never leaving hers.

In the next moment, the carriage thundered by, the driver at the front shouting warnings to get out of the way, and to herald the arrival of Nadia Satrinava, seventh Princess of Prakra. Azrael barely paid any mind to the words. Her eyes stayed on the white-haired man across the street, and once the carriage was a safe distance away, and the crowd began to recollect, she bee-lined for him.

To her surprise, the man didn’t move, just watched her with a calm, straight expression. It seemed like hours, but it was really just seconds, before Azrael was in front of him, her lavender eyes searching his deep, purple gaze.

“You’re Asra, sí?” she asked, the crowd walking around them as the pair stood in the middle of the road watching one another.

He was the first one to notice their obliviousness, and smiled, placing a light hand on Azrael’s shoulder. “Let’s walk,” he said, nudging her onward.

Az felt her face warm, but nodded, allowing him to guide her for a moment before she felt his hand fall.  _Awfully polite_ …she noted, but said nothing, just walked alongside him in silence. To be honest, Azrael wasn’t sure what to say. She’d spent weeks thinking about meeting him, about unwinding the tangled mystery of who he was, what his connection to Lucio was, and why Vesuvia felt so…strange. But Az couldn’t think of a thing to say now that she finally had a chance to quench her curiosity.

He spoke instead. “Did Ludovico tell you my name?”

Az felt her face warm even more, and kept her gaze down. “Yes. But he didn’t say much else.”

Asra smiled at her lie. “Didn’t he?” he asked, looking right at Azrael.

She could  _feel_  his gaze, intense and deep and alluring. It took everything in her to finally take a deep breath and look back. “I…make my own decisions about people. It doesn’t matter what else he said.”

Asra was admittedly caught a bit off guard. He wouldn’t blame her for making swift judgments, most other people did. But he couldn’t help but smile, and laugh a bit to himself. “And what decision have you made about me?”

Az looked away again, reaching up to twirl a strand of her impressively contrasting hair around a single finger. “I don’t know. I don’t know you. All I know is you come around the shop a lot, and you have white hair, and…” she trailed off, then peeked up at him from under her long bangs. “And you’re real.”

Asra wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it wasn’t that. He was visibly caught off guard,  _again_ , before he tilted his head back and started to laugh.

Azrael flushed the deepest warm she had possibly ever felt in her life, wondering what exactly he was laughing at. But his laugh was so warm, and flowing, and contagious, and she found herself laughing too, much to the confusion of the other people walking down the road with them. It took the two of them several moments to relax, to the point where Asra once again put his hand on her shoulder, drawing her into a little corner so they could stop laughing before they continued on to the palace.

Az snickered and calmed herself while watching the masquerade-goers heading past them. Once she was sure she wouldn’t break into another bout of merriment, she looked back at Asra, wondering what this feeling was running up and down her spine every time she looked at him. “I haven’t told you my name yet.”

“Oh, forgive me,” he teased. “Please, your name?”

Azrael rolled her eyes as she leaned back against the near building. “Azrael. Azrael Zamorar.”

“Nopal?” he asked with a raised, white eyebrow.

She couldn’t help but respect his obvious knowledge of other countries. “Close, but no,” she shook her head. “My grandfather was Nopalan. But I’m Galician.”

A somewhat strange look crossed Asra’s face, but it was gone before Azrael could decide it was worth pursing or not. Instead, he smiled, put an arm across his stomach, and bowed to her. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Azrael.”

* * *

 

Before they knew it, they were at the palace. It seemed like they had gotten lost in conversation, their words shifting from talk of other countries to the philosophy of divination, and everything in between. Azrael was so confused and thrilled all at once, a thousand questions spanning her mind about who Asra really was, but also not caring when their connection seemed so raw and immediate.

Asra felt much the same way. He’d been curious about this lavender-eyed, raven-haired magician since she’d arrived in Vesuvia. But while he was mostly suspicious about her and her aunt moving into the shop and rendering him homeless once more, he was now enchanted by how effortlessly Azrael glided across the cobblestones and up to the entrance gates of Count Lucio’s palace; enchanted by how the light blue of her dress made her eyes take center stage against the pale skin and deep freckles of her face. It wasn’t her fault he slept under the stars at night. In fact, he was more compelled than ever to sleep beneath them, their messages these last few months finally making sense.

She drew him in with a magic he never knew existed.

“You’re not like the other boys in town,” Az noted as they passed through the gates, the sun lowering and lowering as they were bathed in the shadow of the palace buttresses. The party was already starting, but it wouldn’t be in full affect until the sun was finally hidden, and the moon was in charge of the festivities.

“I’m nothing special,” Asra insisted with a wry smirk as they walked up the front steps of the palace. There were signs pointing in a dozen different directions, pointing to areas that nearly overwhelmed Azrael. But Asra drew her away, into a quiet corner so both of them could gain their bearings. Coincidently, they found a door that read ‘Dressing Room,’ and with a shared shrug, both of them entered the room.

It was a burst of color, costumes and masks and cloaks and accessories strewn across haphazard hangers and shelves and across the floor. It was obvious the room had already been ransacked, but the sign inside read “Take what you need, leave it when you depart.” Azrael didn’t care that everything was upside down, and set about finding a proper outfit for the party.

“That purple would really draw out your eyes,” Asra noted as Az passed a finger over a sheer, lavender number. But purple wasn’t even Azrael’s favorite color.

She raised an eyebrow at him, and pretended the compliment wasn’t turning her face scarlet. Then Az grabbed a lovely green dress, highlighted in gold thread, with a light, sheer cape attached at the shoulders. Along the bottom were the constellations, and the sleeves were dotted with small pearls from the shoulder down to the wrist. Azrael was mesmerized by the dress, and held it up to Asra for unnecessary approval. “What do you think?”

“I think you’d look good in a potato sack, Azrael. You’re beautiful.”

The air was knocked from her lungs. His words flowed effortlessly, and made the young witch feel warm and, dare she think it,  _wanted_.

“You’re too flattering,” she noted, unable to meet his eyes as she examined the dress.

But Asra was suddenly in front of her, and exaggerated covering his face. “Why don’t you put it on, and we’ll decide that after.”

Azrael felt warm, but nodded even though he couldn’t see her with his eyes covered. With a deep breath, she dropped her bag, they shrugged off her dress, dropping it to her hips, and then the ground. She shivered for a moment against the cool air of the dressing room, wondering if Asra was really covering his eyes, and stepped into the new gown. She smoothed down her hair, made sure the cape flowed out behind her, and then cleared her throat. “Well?”

Asra let his hands drop, and nothing the stars had told him could’ve prepared him for the sight that laid before him. Her skin was glowing against the deep, forest green of her dress. Her eyes were aflame in bright lavender, calming and sensual all at once. Even the flowers in her hair were pale compared to the flush of her embarrassment against the dark freckles dotting her cheeks. All he knew was he didn’t know what to say, and so he simply coughed, holding out a mask to her he’d scavenged along the way. “I can’t say this will make you look any more surreal than you already do, but what’s a masquerade without a proper mask?”

She smiled, reaching out to take the mask from his hand. Surprisingly, it was an array of colors, flowers spreading out like a crown across her face and head with holes left for the eyes. It wasn’t nearly as ornate as the mask she’d seen at the market, but it was still beautiful, and Azrael felt like a princess for the first time in her life.

“What about you? You need a costume too,” she teased against her furious blush, nudging him in the shoulder again.

Asra hadn’t really thought this far though, but cleared his throat and nodded. “Okay, you have a point.” And so the next ten minutes were spent with Azrael wildly running around throwing different tunics and pants and boots at him, each with an explanation about how well they brought out his eyes or how much she thought he looked handsome in them.

Was this girl even real?

Eventually, they settled on a muted grey suit with purple accents, which Azrael thought was too plain, but admittedly made Asra’s purple gaze sparkle with an intensity she didn’t dare try to stare at too long.

“Are you ready?” Asra asked, adjusting the white and orange fur-covered mask he’d unearthed near the bottom of the mask pile. He looked radiant in Azrael’s opinion.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Azrael stuck by Asra’s side almost the entire night. She drank exotic elixirs with him, tasted foreign meat and fruit dishes all sweet and rich in color and taste, and visited many of the favorite masquerade rooms, never stopping her smiling and laughter. Asra was a beautiful dream, handsome and perfect, with skin the color of autumn hillsides, and eyes the shade of galaxies. She didn’t know what to make of him, and almost feared that the moment she looked away, he’d disappear.

Several hours into the dizzying party, Asra announced that he was going to find some water for the two of them. Azrael nodded, tired but content inside the bustling palace halls, and reclined against a pillar near the main dance hall. She was about to head towards the cool air of the outside veranda, when someone suddenly took her hand and pulled her back towards the hall.

“Asra?” she asked before she really looked. But this man was tall, with dark red hair, and a shadowed gaze that made Azrael immediately fill with recognition. “It’s  _you_.”

“I didn’t think you’d recognize me,” he remarked, unable to completely hide his surprise. But he was adept at turning the girl to the correct dance positions, the two of them melting into the other twirling couples on the marble floors. He felt so much different than Asra, his dark, feathered mask exactly like the one he’d been looking at when they were at the market. He towered over Azrael, like many of the skeletons she’d danced with at the Santa Muerte festivals, and was just as otherworldly. She had to fight not to reach up and rip his mask from his pointed, expressive eyes.

“How could I forget?” she asked, inhaling as he pulled her flusher against him.

The man smiled, but said nothing. The music was heavy, entrancing. Many couples seemed intimidated by the musical number, and removed themselves from the dance floor. But Azrael and her mystery partner remained, barely touching the tiles, floating against the beautiful intimacy of the musicians. Azrael had been dancing with Asra all night, and while his sure steps took her breath away, nothing made her feel as comfortably warm as the touch of this man’s hand on the small of her back, his fingers threaded through hers, and the sea-steady grey of his stormy eyes. She felt something indiscernible, but uniquely different, in his arms than she felt with the white-haired magician she’d taken to so suddenly.

She felt drawn to both of them, in fact, for very different reasons.

“I’ve always been pretty forgettable,” he remarked as he spun her away, and then pulled her back into his embrace.

Azrael glanced as him through her floral mask, then looked away with another intimate flush. “You’re not. You’re…different,” she admitted, spinning herself back to face him, pushing herself against his chest as the music picked up its tempo.

He twirling the two of them around, and both forgot everyone else in the room. “As are you. Your eyes are…I…heh,” he chuckled, missing a step to Azrael’s amusement, “I don’t know how to describe them. I think you’re the first person who’s really  _looked_  at me in years.”

“Why don’t you tell me who you are?” she asked, leaning up to him, wanting nothing more than to remove his dark mask and see his face.

But he moved back, gently blocking her hand. “Someone else has the privilege of your company tonight, unfortunately. And I’m…surprisingly not enough of a scoundrel to ask you to leave your date,” he grinned, his eyes betraying some somberness.

As the music died down to the next number, Azrael remembered where she was. She glanced around, blushing at the smiles and attention of the other party guests, before she lightly pulled away from the stranger. There were so many people watching them, clapping, and she realized she’d gotten much too wrapped up in the novelty of the heat between them. “Please don’t think any less of me,” she murmured as she looked away.

He smiled though. “I promise, no such thing has crossed my mind,” he remarked, pulling her back into the anonymity of the crowd. “This was a pleasure, more than I could ever ask for. But,” he lifted her hand, and kissed it, “you must return to your world, and I mine.”

Azrael wanted him to stay, but nodded. “Will I see you again?”

He grinned, then leaned forward, only to place a kiss upon Azrael’s forehead, rather than her lips where she’d expected. “I dare say yes, at some point. Who could stay away from you?”

And with that, he pulled back, and vanished into the crowd, leaving Azrael stunned and confused. But a few moments later, Asra returned, handing Azrael a cup full of much-needed water. “Azrael,  _Azrael_ , slow down. I can get us more water.”

“Oh…yes, I’m sorry,” she laughed breathlessly. She thought about telling Asra then, about the stranger and the dance and the night market, but decided she should keep some secrets to herself. Instead, she smiled, set her cup down, and threaded her arm through his. “So what’s this bubble room you told me about?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Arcana timeline notes (SPOILERS): The main note for his chapter is when Asra, the MC, and Nadia meet. In Asra's route, when he and the MC are dancing in front of Nadia and her sisters (this is when he tells the MC that they've known each other for more than 8 years--9 years we find out soon after), he mentions that the MC and him met at a previous masquerade. He also mentions that this was when Nadia first came to Vesuvia. I opted not to have all three of them meet face-to-face, only bring Nadia from Prakra for her wedding to Lucio.
> 
> In general, Nadia won't have too much involvement until later in the story, but it was a fun timeline point to elaborate on that anyway. And as always, if you guys have comments, questions, critiques, or concerns, let me know!


	4. Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 is here! Now we're getting into the thick of the story! Some time has passed (three years), the characters have grown, and we're starting to really get into their backstories and lives before the game takes place. And hello, another mystery man? A mysterious illness? What will happen next!
> 
> Timeline notes can once again be found at the end of the chapter. In the meantime, enjoy!

Azrael and Asra were basically inseparable at that point. And Azrael, always full of ideas, hadn’t hesitated to ask her aunt if Asra could stay with them the following morning.

Thalia wasn’t sure what the masquerade would entail for her niece, but bringing home a fellow witch, and one in need of some help, was incredibly far from her mind. She wasn’t sure how comfortable she felt with a boy staying with them, but Asra seemed more than sincere. He was immediately honest, and told the older woman about his situation with Muriel and the Count, and Thalia decided that he would in fact have to stay with them. Not only would Azrael have someone else her age to spend time with, but it would keep from the nefarious Lucio from using Asra’s homelessness against the boy.

Asra earned his keep cleaning the shop, fixing things that Thalia couldn’t, and never shying away from anything Thalia asked him to do. In exchange, he had a warm place to sleep and eat, and could continue the magic studies which had fallen through when his parents went away.

There were still things Azrael, even a year, two years, three years later, didn’t fully know about Asra. She knew his parents had worked for the Count at one point, and had vanished soon after without much explanation. She also knew that was why he’d tried so hard to keep Muriel away from Lucio when they first met. It seemed like being around the Count was only a good thing when he wanted something.

But Muriel apparently had his own reasons for his more and more frequent fights. Even Azrael had tried to talk to him at one point, and while Muriel and her were friendly enough, she knew that if the older boy wasn’t listening to Asra, he most certainly wouldn’t listen to her either.

Occasionally, instead of arguing with Muriel about finding another line of work, Asra would ask Azrael to attend a fight with him. They both hated the bloodshed of the colosseum, but now that Muriel—to their horror, The Scourge of the South—had a reputation, Asra knew the best way to try and help Muriel was to just be there and offer some kind of support.

“What’s it say? Who’s he fighting?” Azrael asked as her and Asra tried to fight through the crowd to look at the scoreboards. She was so short though, and could never see over the heads of the people surrounding them.

Asra craned his neck a little, and then visibly tensed. He said nothing though, just took Azrael’s hand and led her out of the crowd and over to a quieter spot. “Ulric the Destroyer,” he said after a few moments, voice heavy with concern.

“What?! No, that has to be a mistake,” Azrael remarked with frantic eyes. “Muriel’s good but…” She couldn’t finish the sentence. Muriel _was_ good, that was why he’d caught Lucio’s eye so early on. But he’d only been fighting against other gladiators his own age, with similar experience levels. The Destroyer had been fighting for years now, and not only was he one of the best gladiators in the world, it was rare when his opponents were left alive.

Asra looked devastated, shaking his head. “We have to find him.”

In an instant, they were dashing through the crowd towards the lower levels of the colosseum. The gladiators usually dressed and practiced here before fights, and while Muriel normally liked being on his own, he knew it was better to size up the competition. This was definitely the day to assess the competition, and it didn’t take Asra very long to spot Muriel in the crowd. His hulking form was almost smaller than many of the fighters that stood around waiting, and yet, Asra could always spot him amid the other giants.

“Muriel,” he spoke, touching his arm. He wasn’t sure what else to say at that moment, and judging from the look in Muriel’s dark green eyes, it was obvious what Asra was there for.

The larger of the two breathed deeply, but shook his head. “I’m not dropping out,” he remarked, shrugging away from Asra’a touch to adjust some of the straps in his armor.

“Muriel, we both know you’re a good fighter. But please, you need to consider your options here,” Azrael added, glancing between her friends.

“If I do a good job…today…I’ll be one of the best.”

“And if you _don’t_ do a good job, you’ll be dead,” Asra narrowed his eyes, his voice dropping to a specific tenseness Azrael hadn’t heard before. Muriel barely reacted though, making it obvious that Asra had used the tone on him on more than one occasion. Az hoped the fellow magician never had to speak to _her_ like that.

Muriel shrugged. “Everyone dies. I won’t die,” he started to head towards the stairs to the main fighting arena.

“How can you be so sure?” Asra raised his voice, taking a pointed step forward as if he meant to physically come between Muriel and a possible, violent death.

Muriel sighed, and side-stepped Asra. “I just am.”

Azrael watched him vanish up the stairs while Asra stood frozen in place. She gave him a few moments before walking up to him, and then reached up, about to set her hand on his shoulder. But before she had a chance, Asra turned to her, tears just pricking the corner of his eyes.

“Asra…” she murmured, and drew him away from the waiting area and into the next room. In the three years she’d known him, she’d seem him tear up plenty of times, but never actually cry. Azrael figured that maybe that would change now.

But Asra simply took a few deep breaths, wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve, and shook his head. “We’re all adults here. We make our own decisions,” he looked at Azrael, his expression somewhat haunted. But it was intense too, the purple of his irises staring like lighthouse beacons through the dim light of the room. They were already standing close together, but Asra took another step towards Az, bringing them almost flush together.

Az felt her entire body flush as she stared up at him. She could feel a wall behind her, which meant she really couldn’t move away unless she pushed him. But Azrael didn’t want to push Asra away. In fact, she wanted to hug him, comfort him. But this… “Asra…” she said, her tone serious. No matter how many times she’d dreamed about what Asra’s lips would feel like against her own, she knew it would be cruel to take advantage of his emotional state.

Asra noted her hesitance and blinked, coming back to himself with a flush of embarrassment. He quickly backed up, shaking his head. “Oh…oh Azrael, I’m sorry—”

Az just shook her head. “No don’t, there’s a lot going on at the moment. I’m not upset, okay?” And suddenly, the gongs of the fight rang out through the colosseum, announcing the next fight. “Come on, we’re here for Muriel, right?”

He blinked again, but nodded. “Right.”

They made it up to common area just as Ulric the Destroyer was being announced. The crowd was loud and thundering, causing Azrael the flinch a bit against the noise. Asra and her pushed their way towards the front, using a little bit of magic to help them squeeze through the throng of people. As they came to the front, Muriel began to emerge, and loud applause and shouting came from the Count’s seating area.

“Welcome fighters!” Count Lucio announced, arms upheld towards the sky. He looked unreal, a slick, conniving sort of man who was surrounded by grinning and laughing courtiers. To his immediate left sat his regularly unimpressed wife, Countess Nadia Satrinava, the Prakran princess who’d arrived to Vesuvia soon after Azrael and Thalia had. Normally, Consul Valerius sat to the Count’s left. But today, someone else was there.

“Who is that?” Azrael asked loudly.

Asra glanced away from Ulric and Muriel to where Azrael was pointing, but shook his head. “I’m not sure.” His attention was immediately back on the arena.

Something about this man was familiar. He had reddish hair from what Azrael could tell, and was dressed in black, but his face was too far away to make out much else. Still, she couldn’t help but take special note of him.

“Today we have quite the match! Ulric the Destroyer—!” the Count announced, causing the crowd to scream, “—versus Vesuvia’s own Scourge of the South! I know who my money’s on, Vesuvia! What about all of _you_?” he asked the crowd.

“ _Scourge! Scourge! Scourge!_ ” the people chanted. Everyone around Azrael and Asra were immersed in the ruckus, jumping and screaming in excitement. The two of them exchanged nervous glances, glad Muriel had so much support, but truly wondering if it would be enough to have him win the match.

“As we all know, the Destroyer never leaves a live opponent!” The crowd went wild again, until Lucio waved his hands to silence them. “So today’s event will be just that—a fight to the death! Winner takes all, _and_ gets to leave with his life! Isn’t that fun? Gladiators, best of luck! You may begin!”

As Azrael looked at her best friend, she felt helpless against the sick shade of paleness that covered Asra’s face. Not only was Muriel up against a fighter who was for all intents and purposes much better than him…but Muriel had never _killed_ someone before. He’d never had to.

Her eyes returned to the arena, where Muriel and Ulric unsheathed their massive swords and began to circle one another.

The crowd fell silent, watching the two size each other up. Muriel was smaller than Ulric, but only a little. Still, Ulric more than made up for it with rippling muscle, looking so much more intimidating that Muriel ever had. Azrael just hoped Muriel knew what he was doing, and she prayed to all the old gods that he wasn’t killed.

In a flash, Ulric yelled, and ran at Muriel all in a few seconds. The crowd surged with excitement as the man’s sword met Muriel’s suddenly raised shield.

Even then, Muriel was obviously knocked back, much to Azrael’s concern. Asra was tense next to her, Az could feel it even without even looking up at him, but she was tense as well watching him shove back against Ulric’s weight.

For nearly the whole first part of the fight, Muriel had his shield raised against the onslaught of Ulric’s sword. The crowd continued to scream and chant, half for the Scourge, and half for the Destroyer. Azrael was worried about why Muriel hadn’t tried to strike yet. This wasn’t how he usually fought. It was true that Az hadn’t been to many of these fights, and she often left half-way through, even when Muriel was in the arena, but she’d spent at least a little time observing what he did to win. He’d use his size against people, would throw his whole body into lunges and strikes, jabs and punches. But now, he was only defending himself.

“What is he _doing_?” she murmured to herself, her knuckles white as she gripped the stone divider in front of her.

Asra was silent, and Az thought he hadn’t heard her. But as she glanced up at him, she saw him shake his head. “Wait.”

At that moment, Ulric sprang back. Azrael could see he was breathing heavily from his attacks, and some of his hits were getting farther and farther apart. Normally, Muriel adjusted, but kept the shield up. This time, he suddenly sprang up right after Ulric, and plunged his sword towards the other man’s chest.

Ulric, while caught off guard, saw the attack. He avoided being killed, but didn’t avoid the slash and spewing of blood that followed Muriel’s sword slicing through his side. Both of the men howled, one with fury, the other with pain, and Ulric stumbled back as the crowd’s enthusiasm swelled to unimaginable heights.

Azrael was surprised, but was relieved that Muriel seemed mostly unhurt. He was _winning_ , and she allowed herself to be hopeful that the fight would be over soon.

Ulric was winded for a moment, bleeding, but still had plenty of fight left. As Muriel came in for another lunge, Ulric brought his own shield up, and used Muriel’s strike against him to push the younger man back. Az gasped, gripping the divider even harder as Ulric brought his sword down against Muriel’s unguarded leg. The blood hit the ground hard, and Muriel howled as he limped backward against the crowd’s chanting.

The two were truly on each other then. Blow was met by blow, and metal rang out louder into the air than any of the fans screaming. Muriel was doing his best to make up for a bum leg, his body covered in bruises and scratches, his cheek bruised open and blossoming with blood, but he fought with everything he had. Ulric seemed to be holding up, but not as well. He was still losing a lot of blood, and it was slowing him down much to Muriel’s advantage.

But with the idea of her friend’s victory came the undeniable fact that Lucio had made this fight a battle to the death. In any other fight, Muriel would knock his opponent out, or close to it, and call the game. That was all it took to collect the prize money. Now, leaving the other fighter close to dead wouldn’t be enough. He could still do it, defy Lucio and hope the cheering of the crowd would work in his benefit. But Azrael knew that anyone involved with Lucio had a precarious, troubled existence. No matter how hard Asra had tried to protect Muriel, there was no denying that he was in the Count’s circle, even if it was against his will.

And once he won this fight, there would be no leaving it.

Ulric swung again, catching Muriel’s arm for a moment. The man yelled, but steadied himself as he pushed back against Ulric. It was the first time the Destroyer really had trouble regaining his fighting stance, and that was the moment Azrael knew, with a sick, bittersweet twist in her stomach, that Muriel was about to win.

The crowd seemed to know it too, and it sounded as if everyone was suddenly holding their breath. Azrael, for whatever reason, chanced a glance up towards Lucio and his entourage. The Count himself was enthralled with the carnage, leaning over the edge of his seat with a frantically amused look across his face. Even far away, Az could see the wide grin of Vesuvia’s ruler. The courtiers were all cheering too, in what the girl could assume were various stages of drunkenness. There were only two people who seemed to not have the same level of enthusiasm for the fights. Countess Nadia almost seemed bored, and was hardly looking at the arena. But she hardly ever looked interested in anything her husband did. The other one was the man Azrael had spotted earlier.

He didn’t seem bored exactly, it was something else. If Azrael was any closer to them, she might be able to tell, but he was still too far away to be a hundred percent sure. Still, as the crowd’s cheering surged, Az found herself split between looking at Muriel’s gory victory, and observing how the man at Lucio’s right would react to it.

The crowd’s cheering suddenly shook the entire colosseum. Azrael gave a swift glance to the arena, and saw Muriel climbing up from the ground. He was breathing hard, and his arm was covered in blood. Just as she noticed more blood strewn across the dirt, and Ulric’s arms still twitching on the dirt, she shivered, and held back her nausea before looking back to the red-haired man…

…who was looking straight at her.

“Muriel needs me,” Asra suddenly announced, and took off into the crowd.

“Wait!” she stumbled, trying to keep her head from spinning, but he was already gone. Az blinked, trying to decide what to do. She could go after Asra, who would be trying to tend Muriel’s wounds as soon as they found one another, or she could head in the opposite direction towards the mysterious man. She glanced in the direction of the man, watching as he suddenly started to exit the Count’s seating area, and quickly made her decision.

The Count’s alcove was usually swarming with people trying to glance Vesuvia’s rulers. Now was no different, though Azrael wasn’t here for a glance at the Count or his beautiful, stoic wife. She tried to press though the other onlookers, but they kept bumping her around. Az was short to begin with, often needing Asra or Muriel to help her see over crowds, but she was alone now, and not doing a great job of fending for herself.

Then a lone raven’s caw caught Azrael’s attention. She looked away from where the Count and Countess were emerging, and just caught a flash of black down the next corridor. Without another spared moment, she was hot on the man’s heels, the crowd thinning out more and more the farther they moved away from the Count and the gladiators.

Asra and Azrael had spent a decent amount of time exploring the colosseum, especially on days Muriel was fighting, and the two of them needed something to do instead of watching the fights. Still, they hadn’t been down this way very often, mostly because there were always shady, dark figures milling around. The pair of them were more than adept in protection magic if need be, but it often wasn’t worth the risk just for a little bit more exploring.

Still, Azrael found herself wondering if maybe they _should_ have pushed their luck a little. She wasn’t entirely sure where she was going, and was quick to lose sight of the man. It was darker down this way too, towards the far end of the monstrous, stone arena, and it was easy to get lost in the colosseum even if one was a normal visitor.

She was about to give up, head back towards Asra and Muriel, when she heard the raven caw again from somewhere up ahead.

Azrael wasn’t sure what the bird had to do with the man she was pursuing, but she felt in the deepest part of her gut that she needed to trust that raven. She took off again, down another side corridor, and out towards the far exit of the colosseum. She could see the light from outside streaming in from the giant doorway, but something told her that the man hadn’t left just yet. Instead, she continued down the corridor away from the entrance, and as she rounded the next bend, she watched in surprise as the raven seemed to be trying to fly into a wall.

“Where are you leading me?” she asked, not at all ashamed about talking to an animal. Thalia had told Azrael on many an occasion that animals were an ancient source of magic, and had a greater intelligence into the arcane than even the most studied witches and magicians. Many magic-users even took familiars to increase the power of their craft, though none of the witches Azrael knew had one. Besides, she often had conversations with the stove salamander, in her own way.

The raven cawed again, but landed with an almost dejected expression several yards away. Azrael didn’t see anyone else around, but her gaze fell back on the wall. She took a few steps forward, lifting her hand to start touching the stones. Truthfully, the girl had no idea what she was looking for as she examined the structure, but as she rested her hand solidly against one stone that seemed a little bit more pushed in than the others, she felt the familiar thrum of magic curl against her skin.

“Did he go in here?” she looked back at the raven, who only tilted its head and stared. Azrael wasn’t sure what that meant, but she continued moving her hand around, wondering how she could get to whatever was on the other side—

“Wha’s a pretty thing like ya doin’ _here_?” a gangly voice came from somewhere nearby.

Az spun, suddenly faced with a small, vindictive-looking man whose face was half-covered by a cloth. She wasn’t sure how to respond, but took a step backward. Not the best idea when she now had the wall behind her, but as the raven cawed wildly and flew away, Azrael knew she needed to get away too. “I was just…looking for my friends.”

The man eyed Azrael in a way that made her skin crawl. He looked…unwell, among other things. “Ya sure ya weren’t lookin’ fer da market?”

_Market?_ “I…well, you caught me,” she shrugged, deciding if worse came to worse, she couldn’t be afraid to use magic to fight. “I can’t uh…remember how to get in.”

The man was silent, and then coughed. Then he coughed again, and coughed and coughed and sputtered until Azrael wasn’t sure whether he was coughing at all, or _laughing_. But before she could say anything else, he righted himself from his hacking, bent-over position. Much to her horror, his once white cloth was stained dark red where his mouth was, and his eyes looked more bloodshot than they had before. “Ya don’t ferget a thing like that.”

“Azrael!” Asra’a voice sent a surge of relief through her body.

She glanced away from the man, spotting both him and Muriel standing a few yards away. While the light from the exit covered his features a bit, Az could tell that Asra’s expression was serious, waiting for her to give any indication that she was in trouble.

“There you guys are! Sorry, I have to go,” she slipped around the sick man, whose severely bloodshot eyes seemed to grin as she passed. Az pushed down the involuntary shiver she felt creep up her spine, and dashed over to where her friends were standing. “You have _no_ idea what great timing you guys have…”

“Who was that?” Muriel asked, green eyes narrow.

“No idea…but he was sick. _Really_ sick. Gods…his eyes looked _red_ ,” she hugged herself as if for warmth, a distant memory from Galicia just pricking the back of her mind—but then it was gone.

Muriel and Asra exchanged a cautious glance, but said nothing. Az barely noticed. She was distracted, looking back at the wall and wondering where the heck the man had vanished to. But she was also wondering what exactly hid under the magic-filled stones she’d felt. As her attention returned to her friends, however, Azrael decided this would be something else she’d keep to herself. “Are you guys okay?”

“Me? I’m fine,” Asra huffed, then looked at Muriel, whose eyes were on the ground. He looked tired and ragged. “But Muriel needs to rest. I say we get him to Thalia, see if she can fix him up some healing tea.”

Az nodded, and the three set out into the warm, afternoon sunshine. It was a bit of a walk from the colosseum to the shop, and as they passed the edge of the Flooded District, Asra hopped off to grab the trio something to eat.

While Azrael didn’t share the same closeness with Muriel that Asra did, she still appreciated his company. He’d never told her as much, but she knew he felt a certain sort of ease around her too. With Asra, she was a chatterbox, and they hardly ever ran out of things to talk about. But Az appreciated silence too, and Asra had found her and Muriel on more than one occasion sitting in front of the stove salamander, each absorbed in a book without saying a word. It was just a shame Muriel couldn’t live at the shop too, but aside from the fact that there was no room for him, he always insisted he could take care of himself.

Regardless, Az and Muriel respected each other’s silence. But this was one time when the girl decided to address him verbally. “Asra and I were really worried about you.”

Muriel seemed surprised by her words, but _not_ surprised at the same time. He huffed a bit as he leaned against a nearby wall. “Shouldn’t be.”

“We always worry when you fight. Especially Asra. Especially today,” she insisted sincerely.

Muriel watched her for a moment, then looked away. “I knew I would win.”

Azrael sighed, blowing some hair out of her face. “You said that earlier too,” she noted. “How could you be so sure?”

Muriel’s expression became different then. Azrael couldn’t exactly put her finger on it, but it was almost…amusement? Even that didn’t perfectly describe the glint in his green eyes though. Still, she almost expected he wouldn’t answer her. But instead, Muriel reached around his belt, and pulled out a sachet. It looked like one of Asra’s, threaded and bound the way Thalia had taught him.

“Asra…gave you a protection charm?” Az raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t unlike her fellow magician to do something like that, but Muriel had made it apparent on more than on occasion that he didn’t think he needed magic to win.

But Muriel shook his head. “I made one.”

Azrael blinked in obvious surprise, her lavender eyes a mix of emotions. “Asra’s been teaching you magic?”

He shook his head again. “I’ve been watching.”

“I managed to snag some of the last chicken kabobs. They look pretty great!” Asra announced as he walked back over to Azrael and Muriel with a wide smile.

Azrael was tempted to continue the conversation, make Asra aware that Muriel had been learning magic from _watching_ him practice. And not only that, but apparently Muriel’s charm had been powerful enough to keep him from being _killed_. But as she looked up at Muriel’s sheepish expression, she realized the larger boy hadn’t told the smaller boy yet. She smiled, deciding they could have that conversation on their own later.

“Yes, they do look great,” she took one of the kabobs from Asra, and pretended not to notice the relieved look that spread across Muriel’s face under his wild mop of black hair.

* * *

 

**A YEAR LATER**

Somewhere in Nopal, close to the Vesuvian border, a small, dark cloud is spotted on the horizon. It’s unclear to the small town that spies it what they’re looking at. But as the cloud approaches, the unmistakable sound of wings can be heard against the sky.

That night, hundreds of red beetles begin to appear.

A month later, everyone is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Arcana timeline notes (SPOILERS): Get ready for some rambling, cuz here it comes!
> 
> First and foremost, we know Asra and the MC have known each other for nine years. That means six years before the MC dies, and the three years spent with MC recovering from being dead with their amnesia. But even six years is a long time, so I'm picking and choosing what things are gonna be in the story.
> 
> [side, side note, if anyone wants to see anything in particular that I haven't included, please let me know! I can always do one-shots that aren't part of this series]
> 
> But anyway, back to the real notes: This entire series is gonna span those six years before the MC dies. I figured, since Asra and Muriel were friends when they were much younger, it would make perfect sense for the MC to know Muriel. But seeing as Muriel doesn't really trust the MC in the actual game, it's probably safe to say that even before MC dies, they weren't that close. This is what I came up with. Also, we know Muriel was already a fighter during this time. I figured at some point, his gladiator career really took off, so this is that incident. He also learned magic during that time, and I figured this fit his personality--half he learned from Asra, half he kinda picked up on his own.
> 
> Back to some previous points, FIC SPOILER, but the mystery man is Julian. Surprise, surprise. Like I said before, since Lucio and Julian were 'friends' (I use the term loosely) at some point, it would make sense for Julian to be around the Count at one point or another. This is my interpretation of that--he's noticeable, but no one really knows who he is. He's a doctor after all, and the plague hasn't happened yet.
> 
> Which brings me to my next, and probably most important, point. THE PLAGUE. Based on Lucio's backstory, he's connected to the beetles, and we all know the beetles are connected to the plague. They're either the cause, or the precursor, or something like that. We're not 100% on that yet. But obviously, Lucio doesn't have the plague when he first rules Vesuvia. We know the plague works kinda fast, so that wouldn't be good for the timeline if the Count was already sick. We also now know that his missing arm was related to mercenary issues, NOT the plague. But the plague does pop up at some point, and I figure since he was kinda running from his mom/the beetles/the plague, the plague would move behind him. At this point in my timeline, it hasn't caught up to Lucio. But we know it does at some point, so that's why I finally introduced it. We don't know where it started, but there were beetles in Nopal in Asra's route, so I figured it moves around. Thus, travelers could already be infected (the colosseum creep) without the whole city being infected. But that's gonna change pretty quick once the beetles catch up.
> 
> As a final note, I hope you guys love my pun in the title! Red for blood, red for the red market, and red for the beetles. So punny!
> 
> Anyway, sorry for rambling. I hope this was an interesting read. As always, comments, questions, critique, and concerns welcome! Thank you guys for being so supportive ^__^


	5. The Raven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 already! As a warning, this chapter does start off sad, but I promise, it gets a lot better after the first bit. And after what seems like an eternity, Azrael finally gets to meet her mystery man!
> 
> I just wanted to take a minute and let everyone know that I'm so thankful for the feedback! You guys are amazing. And I know this isn't like...the most popular story ever, but every comment, every kudos, every hit really puts a smile on my face :D
> 
> Timeline notes are at the end of the chapter, same as always. Thanks for reading!

**NEARLY TWO YEARS LATER**

The funeral service ended two hours ago. Azrael didn’t want to seem unphased, but she knew there was little emotion displayed on her features. These days, people dying was a common occurrence, and Thalia’s shop had turned into more of a deserted haven for those still untouched by the Plague than a place to seek magical remedies. No matter how hard the old witch tried, she just couldn’t seem to find a cure, and while the Count had dozens of minds working on the same goal with no success, Az knew her aunt took the blow especially hard.

Until now, no one too close to Azrael and her aunt had been affected by the Red Plague, as people were calling it. Az desperately wished she’d paid more attention those first few years, the red eyes, the coughing and staggering, beggars and street children turning up dead…but what could she do?

Ludovico and Azrael had never been close. No matter how often Rosie and Maury visited the shop, the two of them were never more than polite. Ludo saw Az as Asra’s annoying sidekick, even if Azrael was the more powerful magic user, and Az eventually only saw Ludo as one of the Count’s men. But they left each other alone for their guardians’ sake, careful to avoid most direct confrontations.

Today was different. Today, the air was full of grief. Today, Ludo was a different kind of plague victim, as were Rosie and Maury.

Kiera had always been prone to illness. Azrael had seen this a handful of times, but Kiki had always pulled through. Close call after close call, she always got better, much of the success being attributed to Thalia’s wise hand. But children, and those with weak immune systems, had been the hardest hit when the beetles first started to appear, and while Kiera had fought with everything in her, today was the day to finally accept that she was gone.

Today was different. Today, Azrael attended Kiera’s funeral with her aunt, and stood sympathetically amid the small crowd of family and friends who wished to pay their respects. It was lucky Kiera had a funeral at all. Thanks to Thalia’s generosity all those years ago, Maury had been able to focus on his wood-working business. He’d given his wife and kids a very comfortable six years, and would otherwise be celebrating a job well done. But today, Maury’s woodworking was coated in tears, his best work in the beautiful coffin he’d custom-made for his daughter.

It was lucky she had a funeral at all. People were dying at such a high rate these days, that funerals were all but forgotten. There was simply not enough time to lay every body to rest. Azrael shivered as she thought about where most of the bodies were going, and kept her gaze down instead of towards the direction of that lone, dark island no one liked talking about.

Once the service was over, Thalia told Azrael that she’d be staying with Maury and Rosie for a while. Az wasn’t sure whether that meant for the night, or several nights, or a few hours, but her aunt assured her that she would be alright for the time being.

Azrael hated leaving her aunt alone. Thalia had always been healthy, aside from her joints, but it was obvious the witch was getting on in age. It pained Az to think about her aunt being exposed to the plague, but so far, it seemed Thalia’s powerful charms had kept most of their friends safe.

That included Asra and Muriel, who had not attended the funeral. It wasn’t for lack of sympathy, they didn’t care that Ludovico worked for the Count when it came to his little sister passing away, but the trio knew Ludo probably wouldn’t take their presence well. Besides, Asra had been spending more and more time at the palace these days, more so to understand what the Count was up to, and less because Lucio had heralded his desire for both doctors and magicians and great thinkers alike to come to the Vesuvian palace to find a cure.

Regardless, as courteous as Ludo was with Az, she knew he really wanted nothing to do with any of them.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Azrael asked as Thalia started to head out with the grieving parents.

Thalia watched her niece with steady eyes. The girl had grown in so many ways. Her face had lost most of its baby-roundness, her shoulders were a little straighter, and she walked with a sort of grace only the most talented witches walked with. Thalia could never express just how proud of Azrael she was…but with that pride came great concern. Not one night did the other side warn Thalia that her niece was linked to an important fate, and a dangerous one at that. Thalia knew it was only a matter of time before that fate finally caught up.

She reached up, gently tucking a loose curl behind Azrael’s ear. “No, mijita. Rosie needs a lot of tending right now. The loss of a child is very great,” she spoke gravely, with an air of knowing Az couldn’t help but be curious about. “Spend the rest of your day enjoying life,” the woman’s hand dropped to rest at her hip. “You never know when it’ll be gone.”

Ominous as Thalia may have sounded, Azrael figured it was all due to the sadness of the funeral. As such, she shook off the prickly feeling at the back of her neck, and with a last glance at Ludovico standing statuesque over his little sister’s grave, she headed out into town.

It was early afternoon now. Mornings were for collecting the dead, for quarantining the newly infected. But by noon, Vesuvia was busy again. There was a rather unnerving drop in the number of people out, and those that did attend town wore face covers and tended to keep their heads down, but there was never any rest from trying to make a living. Count Lucio could act like a benefactor of a miracle cure all he wanted, but he was still collecting taxes.

Az thought about going to the palace to join Asra despite his warnings, but he’d already expressed concerns about her being there. Powerful or not, they both knew she didn’t quite have the stomach for the sick and injured.

She decided a trip towards the palace markets would be good enough. She’d still be somewhat close to Asra, but far enough from the palace to avoid seeing anything too unnerving. Plus, her favorite baker would be open at this time, and Az so did crave some of his famous pumpkin bread. Even during a plague, that man was always working hard to provide the community with delicious food. And he’d sworn her to secrecy that he’d been giving much of his product away for free to those truly in need.

As Azrael slowly made her way up the steps and cobbled streets to the palace from lower Vesuvia, she couldn’t help but notice the increase in plague doctors walking around. When this mess had started nearly three years before, plague doctors were a rarity. In fact, most people thought they were hacks. It was witches and magicians who kept the people healthy through teas and tinctures and talismans, protecting them from bad energies.

But the more people got sick, the more people stopped believing in magic.

Azrael thought they looked too intimidating. Each one was dressed in mostly black, their faces obscured by grotesque bird-beak masks. They smelled of too many mixed scents, haphazard herbs and dried flowers and spices pushed into the beak-points. Az didn’t like to think she was superior to anyone, but she could easily tell that many of these doctors hadn’t a clue what they were doing. One didn’t mix dried nightvein flower petals with curry like an overzealous chef, it was much better to ring out the flower’s nectar into a bowl and mix it with mountain salt to cure a plugged nose.

Then again, Azrael was well aware curing a plugged nose wouldn’t stop the plague.

She sighed, looking among the stalls on her way to the bread maker. The market was bare of masquerade items now, since that year’s masquerade had been nearly three weeks ago. Even with a dying city, the Count wanted his party.

As the young witch looked at a leftover mask at one vendor’s stall—it was blank, surprisingly, like one she’d seen at a small opera at the local theater once—she couldn’t help but flush a bit as Asra’s words a year ago at their last masquerade, how cobalt really looked beautiful on her. No matter what color he picked, Az always said the same thing: that Asra was too flattering, and that he’d think she’d look good in a potato sack.

If anything, Asra was more flattering the last couple of years than he ever had been before, and as much as Az liked the attention, felt warm and wanted when he gave her that…that _look_ of his, she couldn’t help but want to avoid his affections too. People were dying, after all. Romance was not a priority to Azrael.

Well that, and the fact that she’d never completely forgotten the dark stranger.

“You’re much too pretty to be frowning,” a voice came from the next stall.

Azrael blinked, looking up at the tall man who was examining a lovely set of knives. She was about to say something, tell him off for thinking he could speak to a lady like that, but she stopped. Dark red hair, pointed face, dark clothes…

“Do I know you?” Az settled on with a tilt of her head. The young witch was sure they hadn’t met before, but she was almost sure she’d _seen_ him somewhere. She was so sure, in fact, that she would bet on it, and didn’t hesitate to walk over to where he was standing.

The man, bold before, was startled now, and took a step back. “I…I dare say, no,” he shook his head, his grey eyes a sea of questions.

Azrael was brave, but she wasn’t normally so aggressive when it came to interacting with strangers. Still, she didn’t back off, just sat into her hip, and crossed her arms over her chest. “No, no, I _know_ you from somewhere. Where?”

The man looked trapped, like he hadn’t expected the conversation to head in this direction. So much for remaining a mystery, she was far too smart for that. He took another step back, wondering if this would be a good time to pull the ol’ ‘what’s that behind you?!’ and make a break for it.

But if it didn’t work against the cannibals in Peloji, it definitely wouldn’t work with the clever woman standing in front of him.

_Shit_. “My dear, I just have one of those faces. Really, I’m quite the forgettable character,” he took another step back. “Now, I’ll just be on my way,” he started to walk away, hoping the crowd would work to his advantage. He had a least a foot on her anyway, how hard would it be to vanish once more?

_Forgettable face…I’ve heard that before_ …Az shook her head, several words and memories starting to click together as the man backpedaled. He was already a couple yards away when it dawned on her just who he was. “Wait, _stop!_ You can’t just leave again!” she nearly demanded, her tone strong for someone five feet, three inches, which caused several people to stare at her. Azrael didn’t care. She was threading her way through the crowd again, trying not to lose him on those ridiculously long legs of his.

“Please! _Please!_ Why do you keep leaving?” she asked, still spying the top of his head. But he was definitely gaining ground, and Azrael was losing hers. She pushed though, nudged a few scowling people out of the way as she crossed the street…and was met but nothing. He was gone. “Please, not again…” she murmured, dejected, and with the prickling of tears at the edge of her vision. It was bad enough that Vesuvia was dying, but the stress from the funeral, and worrying about her aunt, left Az feeling quite helpless all over again.

She sighed, trying to get ahold of herself, and turned back to the road—

“— _Watch out!_ ” a voice shouted, and she felt someone grab her from behind, dragging her sharply out of the street, and out of the way of a large, fast-moving cart.

Az felt her butt hit the ground in the next moment. She was small, so it really didn’t take a lot to knock her over. It was obvious that her savior hadn’t really judged their momentum very well. Still, she was relieved, and looked over at the man who was sitting up next to her.

“You really should be more careful,” he tutted, but with a certain mirth in his grey eyes that made Azrael forget how to breathe for a moment.

“I…sí. I mean _yes_. Uh…”

Before she could stand up, the man was springing to his feet. Az could only watch him in a daze, like he wasn’t even real, before his black-gloved hand reached out to her. “I don’t believe I ever got your name.”

Azrael really didn’t know how to feel about any of this. On one hand, he’d just saved her life, or at least saved her from a broken leg. But on the other hand, Az was sure this was the dark man, the man she’d met at the market, the man she’d danced with in a romantic passion at her first masquerade. This was the man who kept her an arm’s length away from Asra. Part of her was angry, upset that he could just come and go from her life as he pleased. But…another part of her was more than a little intrigued.

That was the part of her that reached up and accepted the outstretched hand. “Uh…it’s Azrael,” she answered, letting him hoist her up before brushing herself off. Then she looked up, watching him watch her, two sets of equally curious eyes. “Do I finally get the name of my mystery man?”

He opened his mouth, presumably about to reply, when a commotion came from down the street where the cart had gone. Azrael and the man both steadied their glances, nodded once at one another, and took off together towards the sound.

There was already a small crowd gathered, and it was obvious the run-away cart had crashed. People were shouting and murmuring, but both Az and the man could hear several people asking for help, or a doctor.

“I’m a doctor!” he announced from next to Azrael, and pushed his way through the crowd without much difficulty.

But Az wasn’t having the same ease. She was small again, trying her best to follow him, but with little success. She wasn’t a doctor after all, and while it was tempting to use her magic to gently nudge people out of the way, Azrael really wasn’t sure how she’d be able to help.

“Please, my apprentice needs to get through! Please let her through!” his voice chimed through the crowd again, and the people, while a little surprised, made an easy path for Azrael to walk through.

_Apprentice?_ Azrael raised an eyebrow as she shimmied her way past the onlookers. She’d never been an apprentice before in her life. Even Thalia had refused to call her as such, always reminding Az that while the girl’s talent needed constant practice and guidance, she refused to claim being her niece’s ‘Master.’ Asra, on the other hand, often referred to himself as Thalia _and_ Azrael’s apprentice, much to their amusement.

She shook the thought away. Azrael knew she was no one’s apprentice, this was obviously just a way for the man to help her move through the crowd. Maybe there was _something_ she could do, but Az grew nervous about being put on the spot without an inkling of medical knowledge behind her.

Still, when she finally came to the front and saw the man kneeling in front of the clearly injured cart-driver, all nervousness was banished from her. Azrael saw the blood on the victim’s clothing, saw the dark man begin removing various instruments from the sack at his hip, and kneeled down next to him. She hated the sight of blood, ever since Muriel’s fight against Ulric three years prior, but this wasn’t the time to be squeamish.

“Here, put these gloves on. Now, put pressure here. Don’t be afraid to push, and don’t let up until I tell you to,” the man instructed her, serious, but not without an air of sympathy.

Azrael nodded, doing as she was told. She slipped on the gloves—they were a little big, but she understood it was for her own protection with plague running rampant—and grabbed the clean rag from the dark man. Then she pushed the rag down over the injured man’s split forehead, the cloth already blossoming with the stain of blood. “What happened to him?” she asked.

But the doctor working next to her shook his head. “Not quite sure yet,” he remarked, reaching into his bag to pull out a clear vial. Azrael’s eyes widened when she saw the small, black creature inside. “But if I can stabilize him, we’ll be able to ask him in another hour or so.”

He reached inside the vial with a small clamp, grabbed the worm-ish thing, and placed it on the victim’s open wound. The creature went to work draining some of the excess blood, much like the vampire eels Asra told her were at the palace.

And all the while, Az watched the doctor with an intense desire for knowledge she never knew existed inside her. She knew so much about magic, about casting spells and lighting fires and levitating. She’d read dozens of books on transmutation and divination, on charting the stars and which herbs either immediately gave or cured warts. But she didn’t know a thing about _this_ , about small, black, bloodsucking creatures, or why the man next to her was suddenly threading string through a needle.

But she _wanted_ to know, more than anything.

“Hold his head steady,” the man instructed, and Az moved her pressure hand just a bit so she could hold the injured man’s head.

The dark man cut the string, and then set to work. He began to sew the victim’s cut back together like a torn piece of fabric, causing many of the crowd to instantly turn away or begin to leave. Those that were still watching did so mostly out of shock. The worm-like creature, Az thought she remembered her aunt calling such things leeches, continued to suck, the dark man continued to sew, and Azrael continued to absorb all that she witnessed.

“There,” the dark man said after an eternity. He cut the thread, and then looked up at Azrael with a steady, dare she say _proud_ smile. “Thank you.” He turned to the crowd then, starting to stand. “I need a few volunteers to help me move him inside. He needs to rest for a few hours.”

“I know him! I can help!” a man called, stepping forward. A few more came, and soon, the dark man and three volunteers were carrying the patient into a nearby home. Azrael followed behind, carrying some of the doctor’s tools.

She couldn’t do much else to help, and stood off to the side with the patient’s friend, who the house belonged to, while the doctor set about making the patient comfortable. It took about thirty minutes in total, and when he was done, the woman of the house and her husband offered for the dark man and Azrael to wait in the next room while the woman made them some food. The doctor accepted the invitation for both of them, and once he and Az were alone again, she felt herself breathe for the first time since they’d gone to the cart-driver’s aid.

“Well good news, he’ll pull through without much trouble. And some of the neighbors are seeing to his cart. He doesn’t seem to be infected, so we’ll have to wait to ask him what happened.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Az nodded, staring down at the tea cup in her hand. This close to the palace, the shops and homes were much wealthier. She couldn’t help but notice how fine the china in her hand was, and wondered that with such death at every corner, how people could still afford to live so comfortably.

“It’s Ilya by the way,” the doctor spoke again, causing Azrael to look back up.

“Ilya,” she ran the shape of the word over her tongue in a way that made both of them blush. Az cleared her throat, absentmindedly swirling her tea around in her cup the same way Thalia did when the older woman had something on her mind. “Well, Dr. Ilya—”

“Oh no, just Ilya will do,” he chuckled. “I don’t much care for the stuffy title, I’m afraid. I hear it too often at the palace,” he admitted.

_At the palace?_ Azrael wondered, as if another memory was threatening to reveal itself. But no, he was a doctor. There were a lot of doctors working at the palace these days, he must’ve been referring to such. Still, Az couldn’t help but feel that even though she knew who the dark man was now, there was still more to him she wasn’t seeing. “Alright, just Ilya then,” she settled on a small smile.

The pair stared at one another for a few moments, both content in silence, both a little warmer than before, both trying to make out the other. There were so many questions on Azrael’s mind, and she had very few ways to formulate them out loud in a way that sounded good. But this was her chance to have _years_ of ‘what ifs’ finally go away. He was here now, he wasn’t running away.

“You know, you look just as beautiful now as you did when I first saw you,” Ilya smirked over his cup of tea, taking in Azrael’s expression as he said it. “Though your accent is much less noticeable now.”

Az was afraid she’d turned scarlet, and coyly hid behind her dark bangs. “That was six years ago, Ilya. I’m not that girl anymore,” she smiled, then tilted her head a bit. There weren’t many people who ever asked Azrael and Thalia where they came from. Az knew they spoke a little differently, but people in Vesuvia seemed so used to foreigners, that it didn’t much matter. As such, she’d forgotten she had an accent in the first place, though it made sense that it would fade over six years. Ilya pointing it out was actually endearing. “You noticed.”

“Forgive me for prying, but I was always curious about where you came from.”

Azrael’s smile faded a bit. Galicia was nothing but a memory now, and Az had so seldom let herself talk about it, that the words were stuck in her throat. She took a deep breath though, and another sip of her tea. “Galicia.”

His face lit up with the somber recognition Azrael was expecting.

“I remember Galicia. It doesn’t exist now, does it?” Ilya pressed lightly, setting his tea down next to him.

Az stared down at her tea. “When the invaders first came, they promised not to harm us if we swore allegiance to them. Galicia is known for their silver-based weapons. _Was_ known. El Rey Somero Martinez, our King, decided that we were too powerful to bend the knee. Galicia’s troops did well for a time, and we kept the invaders back.

“Mi tía Thalia told me all of this. I was just a baby. But my parents fought in that war. They didn’t make it, but because of mi papá being in the army, they kept us safe for many years. It was when I turned seventeen that we knew we were doomed. Thalia and I bought passage out of Galicia, and we ended up here.

“From what I heard, now Galicia is split between the invaders’ other territories. Hapshuut to the North, and the Prakran island territories in the east,” Azrael finished. It was only when she was finished that she looked up, her face somber. But at the same time, she was smiling, aware that she’d just divulged a lot of information, and not surprised that Ilya didn’t look overwhelmed. She’d even slipped in her native Galician several times, a habit she only had around Thalia and Asra.

And Ilya was fascinated, and sympathetic. “Quite a childhood you’ve had.”

She laughed a bit. “I get the feeling you had quite a colorful youth as well. Your accent is much less noticeable now _too_ ,” Azrael teased, her freckles betraying the edge of a grin.

He was more than a little caught off guard. Even when they’d met, Ilya had already been well-traveled. It was obvious he was a bit older than Azrael, enough to have been to most of the countries in her story. He’d been away from Nevivon for…what? Five? Eight? _Eleven_ years? No one ever noticed his accent.

But she had.

“I…” Ilya cleared his throat a bit, much to Azrael’s amusement. He was beginning to like that mischievous glint in her lavender eyes. “You’re astute, aren’t you?”

“Where are you from?” she wasted no time questioning him, even leaning forward in her seat a bit like an excited child.

“Nevivon,” he smiled, taking up his lukewarm tea again with a little sip.

Az blinked. “We almost went to Nevivon, instead of Vesuvia,” she remembered from six years ago. It was a random decision at best, but a strange coincidence now. “Maybe we could’ve met sooner.”

“My dear, I believe we met exactly when we were supposed to,” Ilya remarked, smiling, with a sincerity in his sea storm eyes that made Azrael’s chest flutter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Arcana Timeline Notes (SPOILERS):
> 
> Alright, so here we have my creative liberties again. Obviously, we met Ludovico in chapter 2, and his sister. But since Ludovico is a minor character to begin with, I figured this would be an interesting take on his backstory. I love all the minor characters, and I love thinking about what their lives were like during these nine years leading up to the actual game.
> 
> Now, this is mostly a chapter for the MC and Julian to meet. As such, a bunch of it is just me rambling on about how I imagined their first real meeting because I SHIP IT SO HARD, and because we don't actually know how they met. We know the MC eventually becomes Julian's apprentice at some point, and opts to stay and help Julian with the plague instead of leave with Asra. But it wouldn't make sense for the MC to just randomly become an apprentice if they're already a really powerful magic user. As such, the MC had to have had some kind of interest in medicine and/or already have known Julian.
> 
> You guys may be asking: alright, if Asra is at the palace atm, and Julian is also there--do THEY know each other yet??
> 
> Well...I haven't decided yet. Feel free to leave a comment if you have thoughts on it though! At this current moment, that whole arc is totally unwritten. Another side note, I thought it was cute to have the MC and Julian run into some cart-related problems, since they do in the actual game lol
> 
> Regardless, I think that's about it on notes for this chapter. As always, questions, comments, critiques, and concerns always welcome!


	6. Practical Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M NOT DEAD. I'm sure plenty of you probably thought I wasn't going to update, but sURPRISE! Not that I expected anyone to still be reading, but hopefully there's a couple of you still interested lol I am sorry about that, some stuff came up. I've been working on the story on and off, and my methodology involves not updating new chapters until the next one is written. I've had chapter 6 written for a little while, but I didn't want to post it until I was just about done with chapter 7, which I am now.
> 
> As such, updates will be farther apart, but they WILL continue. I apologize once again, but I hope you guys like the new chapter. As always, timeline notes can be found at the bottom, and comments are always appreciated <3

They’d spent almost the entire last three hours together. Since Azrael had shared what brought her to Vesuvia, Ilya had told her his story in exchange. Az learned he had a younger sister, Pasha, who still lived in Nevivon with their guardian Lilinka. There were actually quite a few children he grew up around, seeing as many of the older women in Nevivon took care of children like a matriarchal family of alpha females looking over their pups.

But eventually, Ilya wanted a life of his own.

If she thought Asra was well-traveled before, she was blown away by just how many places Ilya had been to. Lived like a native in the jungles of Peloji, rode war elephants in the deserts of Prakra, danced and drank in the streets of Hesperia, and even met the elusive Sultan of Nopal. The way he wove his words together told Azrael that he was a natural storyteller, and as such, she was sure some of his details were a bit exaggerated. But she was engrossed in it nonetheless, her tea growing colder and colder as she sat transfixed.

It was true that Ilya loved to talk. He was certainly well-traveled, and had truly been to all the places he mentioned. But he had left out a few exploits, and made others seem grander than they actually had been. Still, he got the feeling that Azrael knew that and didn’t care. She sat there, legs pulled up under her skirts like an enchanted child during a bedtime story, her eyes glimmering like amethysts in the dim light.

“Vesuvia has been quite the adventure too, though lately it’s been work as well,” he sighed a bit. Ilya thought about telling Az that he was mostly in town because Lucio wanted him to personally find a cure, but it wasn’t public knowledge that the Count was even sick. That, and Ilya couldn’t help but feel like Azrael would look at him differently if he told her that he was friends with Count Lucio. Ilya knew how the people felt about their ruler.

Az nodded solemnly. “I can imagine. The sick seem to trust the doctors more and more now. They don’t come to shops like my aunt and I have.”

Ilya tilted his head at that. For all their chattering, even when Vitoria interrupted them with food an hour earlier, he hadn’t quite asked what Azrael did for a living. “You’re extremely well-read, that much is obvious. Forgive me, but I’m just as curious about your present life as your old one,” he remarked as politely as possible. And it was the truth. She knew more about him at this point than he did about her.

Azrael blinked, and looked slightly away. She held no shame in being a witch, but she knew that the role of magic-users had switched with the role of doctors since the Red Plague had come. Where doctors were rare, and questioned once, now witches and magicians were the ones heavily scrutinized.

“My aunt and I…we run a magic shop,” Az looked back at Ilya. “It’s been in our blood for generations, it’s what we’re good at. I hope you don’t think any less of me.”

It was the same thing she’d asked of him at the masquerade six years before. But just like that night, Ilya didn’t want Azrael to feel ashamed of her life, or her own choices. She’d done nothing wrong then, and she was doing nothing wrong now. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he smiled warmly, and watched relief flood her bright eyes.

They were silent again, for the first time in three hours. It was comfortable then, just Azrael and Ilya watching one another, taking the other one in. It seemed unreal to both of them that they were meeting at all after so much time.

But a groan from the next room signaled that the patient was awake, and Ilya began to get up to head into the next rom. Az remained sitting, not sure if there was anything she could contribute. And yet, before Ilya was across the room, he stopped, and smiled at her. He had definitely noticed how deeply interested she’d been in his work earlier. “I don’t know about you, but this doctor is still in need of his assistant.”

Surprise was starting to make a home in Azrael’s expression. But she smiled too, and nodded, hopping up to join him.

* * *

 

With a thorough check-up from Ilya, and a note to get much more sleep, especially with the plague running around, the patient was off on his way to recovery. Will, the cart-driver, was more than thankful to the doctor, and both he and his friends Eisn and Vitoria wanted to pay the man for saving Will’s life. But Ilya had refused, saying that helping a person in need, especially off the clock, was reward enough.

Once he and Azrael were back outside, the ruse of doctor and apprentice fell away as the busyness of Vesuvia swept over them again, and both stood silently, wondering what they were supposed to do next.

“Ilya—”

“Azrael—”

They both blinked, then laughed when they realized they’d spoken at the same time.

Az looked down at the ground, trying to hide her blush behind her dark bangs. She wasn’t normally so bad at goodbyes, she saw clients off from the shop all the time. But here, she was at a loss for words. She didn’t _want_ to say goodbye, she realized as she looked back up at Ilya.

He marveled at the rosy pink of her cheeks, smiling softly when Azrael tried to hide it. Ilya was also used to saying goodbye. Not only did being a doctor mean he was in and out of people’s lives on the daily, but he had traveled to so many places that waving adieu was secondhand. And yet, as he watched her, this dark-haired, bright-eyed, incredibly intelligent woman in front of him, Ilya realized he didn’t want to say goodbye either.

It was as if there’d been some spell on him, keeping him at a distance from Az, and now that she’d finally looked at him, really _seem_ him, Ilya was free.

And with that freedom came the choice not to run away for once. “Uh…listen, Azrael—”

“Az is fine,” she quipped with something of a cheeky grin.

Ilya inhaled sharply, but grinned to match. “While I’m honored to receive the confidence of your nickname,” he bowed a bit, causing Azrael’s cheeks to light up to his amusement, “I much prefer the _music_ of your full name. If it’s no trouble.”

She felt like her face was on fire. Az coughed, and shrugged, trying to downplay her emotions. “Oh, yes, of course.” So much for trying to catch him off guard, he was much better at catching _her_.

And boy did Ilya know it. Still, he wasn’t trying to take advantage of…well, whatever unnamed affect he had on her. He’d be lying if the feeling wasn’t mutual. But he continued, clearing his throat. “As I was saying. I need to head into town, bit behind schedule picking up some medical supplies. I was…well, I wouldn’t mind the company, if you’re free.”

Az thought about it. There was still daylight left, and the warmth of the evening if she saw fit to stay out. Thalia would still be with Maury and Rosie, Asra was always at the palace for days at a time, and the shop would be safeguarded by some of Muriel’s protective charms. Everything would be fine for now, and she nodded at Ilya with a smile. “I’d love to.”

For a moment, he thought she’d decline. He wouldn’t have been that surprised. Regardless of the pull he felt between them, Ilya knew Azrael had her own life. He may have caught glimpses of that life, had never let her leave his mind, but he didn’t have any claim to her. As much as he wanted to know the witch, he knew he needed to respect her space too.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t thrilled when she accepted his invitation. “Great!” he smiled, then cleared his throat a bit. “But, I have to ask something of you first,” Ilya remarked with faux seriousness.

Az caught on, and squared her shoulders with an amusingly restrained smile. “Ah, yes, of course, Doctor. What’s your question?”

Ilya pretended that the way she said _Doctor_ didn’t make him flush warm in places he’d been able to keep calm up until that exact point. “Uh…oh right. Well, I have to warn you, this little excursion may not be as deceivingly benign as you’d hope.”

“Oh really? Are we about to do something bad?” Azrael teased.

He laughed, low and genuine. “No, nothing of the sort. At least, not _this_ time,” Ilya teased right back. “But we’ll be going somewhere that isn’t as refined as you’re probably used to.”

Azrael actually rolled her eyes at him. “I’m not as refined as you _think_ I am, Ilya. I’m sure I can handle it. As long as we’re not hurting anyone who doesn’t deserve it, I’ll be alright,” she smiled, amused that he, perhaps, thought she was so delicate.

If he’d been attracted to her before, he was ready to propose now. “Right then. Shall we?” Ilya held his elbow out for her to take.

Admittedly, Azrael hesitated. It was only a second though, and she was happy to thread her arm through his. The girl was even delighted that he kept his arm low for her, seeing as their height difference would be awkward otherwise.

            Az did hope he didn’t see the hesitation. It in no way indicated that she didn’t want to go with him. The fact was, this was the first time they’d touched since the masquerade six years before. It remained a vivid memory for her, the sudden appearance of the dark man, being swept onto the dance floor until the only ones remaining were the pair of them. She remembered the fire, the way their bodies molded to the music, and it almost made her flush. Az had wanted to know him so much at that moment, wanted to see every angle of his face. But Ilya hadn’t been her date that night.

Ilya did in fact see her hesitation. His thoughts flowed back as well, to that night six years ago when, for a moment, he’d allowed himself to trust fate and take a chance. He still envisioned the feel of her palm pressed to his, the way the dark green of her dress made her skin glow against the lights. But Ilya remembered her hesitation that night too, a soft plea not to think any less of her. And he’d kept his word, he hadn’t. He’d allowed himself a moment of selfishness, and she was the stronger of the two, honoring her date that night.

_He must mean a lot to her…_ he thought, not without some jealousy, but with understanding too. Whoever it was, he was lucky.

While visions of that night rattled restlessly at the back of both their heads, Azrael and Ilya were still able to maintain active conversation, chatting up and down the streets.

It wasn’t clear where exactly they were going, but Azrael wasn’t complaining. She clung to Ilya’s arm like an affectionate snake, reminding herself of Faust with a little sigh. Asra’a familiar was always clinging to her master, and she let herself wonder for a moment what the two were up to at the palace.

Despite her melancholy though, Ilya was more than adept at lightening Azrael’s mood. She hadn’t told him about the funeral, it seemed a little unnecessary after everything else they’d shared, but the stress of the day fell away from her shoulders more and more with each step they took along the cobbled streets. Ilya talked about how that person or that jar was from that country. He went on about how different food was in Vesuvia than in Hesperia, what a spare leg was worth in Karnassos, whether the Sultan of Nopal was truly missing his left ear, and why it was always best to sail on a Monday afternoon when you could also see the moon in the sky.

In exchange for Ilya’s stories, Azrael opened up to him. She showed him the difference between highland flower and highlander rose, the former a powerful sedative, and the latter a potent poison, and where to find them along the river as they often grew together. She got him to sample Vesuvian foods he’d never tried, especially the bread maker’s famous pumpkin loafs, and Ilya ended up buying three all for himself. She told him about how accurate her tea leaf readings were, and how she once predicted the near-death of a woman’s unborn baby before the woman even knew she was pregnant. They were more than prepared when the time came, and were able to save the baby girl.

Azrael even talked a little bit about Galicia. She told Ilya about growing up alone, how it took many years for people to trust Thalia when they’d been so close to her sister, Clio. Azrael’s mother’s shoes had been difficult to fill, but knowing that Thalia was trying so hard, and was also raising Clio’s child, helped gain her more and more trust in their village. The damage had been done though, and Az never had many friends her own age.

“I would’ve given you some of mine,” Ilya had joked.

In contrast to Az’s loneliness, Ilya had never really been alone. Even before their ship was wrecked, he’d been close to his sister Pasha. When Lilinka had taken the pair in, the woman had made it known that they’d have to learn to share the space with the other misfit children. Scrawny and newly orphaned, it was hard for the siblings to be accepted. The other kids were polite enough, but when Lilinka wasn’t watching, they were quite the bullies.

“But…I thought you said you loved the other children,” Az noted.

“I do. But that took time. And Pasha’s fist,” Ilya laughed. Pasha was always the leader of the pair. While Ilya didn’t mind her being in charge even if she was younger than him, it was a relentless source of material for their tormenters. Eventually, one verbal altercation led to Ilya being knocked over, and Pasha didn’t hesitate to swing right up into a boy named Cyril’s chin. After that, both Ilya and Pasha were welcomed by the other kids. All along, the others had just wanted Ilya and Pasha to earn their keep, kind of a way of getting them ready for the unforgiving world.

“You all watched out for each other.”Ilya nodded, smiling solemnly, but with happiness. “None of us had parents. We had Lilinka, some of her pirate friends, and each other. We kept close until it was time for all of us to leave the nest. Ah,” he tutted at himself with a sad laugh. “Well, Pasha wasn’t very happy about me leaving. But uh…that’s a discussion for another time. Besides, we’re finally here.”

Azrael blinked. In all their talking and stopping every five seconds to look at things, she’d completely forgotten they were on an errand run. In fact, she’d almost been sure Ilya had made it up as an excuse to spend time with her. But it seemed he was telling the truth as the pair looked up at the tall, windowless building in front of them. There were scenes of romance, cutely drawn dancing couples and kissing lovers, painted on the outside, and Az had to restrain herself from shooting a pointedly mischievous smile up at Ilya.

“This is it. I’m meeting someone here, they have my supplies,” he explained, looking a tad sheepish.

She tilted her head just a bit, raising one eyebrow. “Seems oddly suspicious.”

Ilya chuckled. “Trust me, my dear. In my line of work, sometimes you need things that are very hard to find. But there’s no medical progress unless we experiment a bit. I’m sure it’s much the same with magic.”

He had a point. “Alright then. After you,” Az nodded towards the building, noting that there didn’t seem to be a door.

But Ilya swept them into the shadow of one of the front beams, where a dark staircase spiraled down into the unknown. The entrance was almost invisible without getting very close to the beam, and Az smiled to herself. For all that Ilya had shared with her, he was still blanketed in mystery, and it made him all the more intriguing.

They walked in silence for a few moments before the sound of voices caught Azrael’s ears. It wasn’t long after when they hit the bottom of the stairs, and she looked around in the dim light at all the little booths and tables scattered around the room. Each table had a single candle illuminating the people sitting at them, and the chandeliers that hung from the dark rafters almost seemed like they were more for show than for light.

“He’s not here yet,” Ilya tutted, then shook his head. He looked at Az with a smile though, and gestured towards the back. “My favorite table is just that way. Very comfortable, and private too.”

Az knew he’d made that last remark in regards to his business, but she couldn’t keep her mind from straying to other ideas of what could be done in private. She just hoped the dark lighting hid her blush.

Ilya was distracted though, gently nudging Az in the direction of the semi-hidden table towards the back, and wondering where his man was. He wasn’t buying anything _illegal_ , at least not this time, but leeches from the Western Isles of Xiao Shung were a rarity, and worth quite the pretty penny.

Azrael scooted into the booth first, glancing around at the establishment. Like the outside, there were paintings along the walls, lovely murals of kissing couples, flowers and lilies along the lakeside, and beautiful birds of paradise trapezing along the painted sky. Most of the patrons seemed to be drinking tea or coffee, based on the steam rising from their mugs, though Az noted that no one was eating.

“I didn’t even know this place was here,” she remarked, looking back at Ilya who was staring hard at the staircase. He seemed a little tense.

“Oh yes, been here for years from what I know,” he looked back at her. “I come here to think sometimes, worry over my medical knowledge. No one bothers you, and you can stay as long as you like. I’ve spent many a drunken night curled up in this very booth,” Ilya chuckled.

“Oh?” she asked with a note of amusement.

But before Ilya could answer, a portly woman with an abundant chest sauntered their way. “Well, if it isn’t Dr. Devorak,” she rasped with a little laugh. “And who is _this_ lovely thing? Much too pretty to be hanging around the likes of you!”

Ilya laughed. “No doubt at that,” he glanced at Azrael from under his hair, noting her rosy cheeks. “Zuri, this is Azrael. She’s…well, she’s a bit of a long-lost friend.”

Azrael blinked. Friends. Yes, they _were_ friends, weren’t they? But why did the word seem like it didn’t entirely fit? “Hello, it’s nice to meet you.”

“And you as well. What’ll you two be havin’?” Zuri asked.

“The usual for me, and…the pomegranate green mix for Azrael. I think she’ll enjoy it.”

“Coming right up,” the woman smiled, and headed off again.

“For someone who travels so much, I’m surprised you know so many people in Vesuvia,” Azrael noted with a slight tilt of her head.

Ilya shrugged offhandedly. “Well, what can I say? Vesuvia has an allure I just can’t shake. Every time I leave, I find reasons to return. Can’t say my gut has led me wrong, especially now,” he remarked, his tone shifting from teasing to genuine by the end of his sentiment.

Az smiled, ignoring the warmth in her cheeks as they watched each other again. He seemed so sure of himself, and it made Azrael feel a certain confidence in herself as well. She felt like she could say anything to him, and he’d understand. And there was no mistaking the pull he had on her, as strong as that night at the masquerade six years ago.

There was magic in her eyes. Even if she hadn’t been a witch, Ilya would have bet on it. They were almost hypnotic, the way their genuineness, their brightness, made him never want to look away. She’d had the same affect on him six years ago too, when he first saw her at the market. It was Azrael’s eyes that kept him in town the extra week. And there, in the dim, cozy, private booth, he could swear her natural magic was even stronger.

Without realizing it, they were both leaning towards the other. Ilya’s head had dipped, Az’s chin had perked up, and their faces were much closer now.

It was the doctor who noticed first, and he couldn’t help but feel his face grow warm. He saw the red rise in the witch’s face as well, and backed up, _just_ a little, just to say her name. “Azrael…”

“Devorak!” a man’s voice chimed in, causing the pair to jump.

Azrael felt her face grow even hotter, and looked up at the man who had seemingly appeared from nowhere. Or had she simply been that distracted by the stormy whirlwind of Ilya’s eyes?

Ilya did his best not to grumble, and cleared his throat as he stood to greet and shake the man’s hand. “Maverick, you ol’ sea dog. What _wonderful_ timing,” he barely hid his sarcasm. But he couldn’t help but feel warm nonetheless when he heard Azrael snicker a bit next to him. He sat back down, and gestured to her. “Allow me to introduce Azrael.”

Maverick smiled, his teeth rather yellow. But for all his bulk and poor dental hygiene, Azrael could tell he was a nice man. It wasn’t often her intuition about people was wrong, and while he definitely seemed rough around the edges, she didn’t feel intimidated by him. “Ah, lovely to meet ye miss. Name’s Maverick, some call me Rick. The doctor’s a lucky man ta find a catch like ye.”

Ilya began to stammer while Azrael began to laugh. “She’s not…we’re not—”

“He’s very lucky indeed, just overly humble,” she grinned, and when she looked up at Ilya’s beet-red face, she couldn’t help but grin even wider.

Maverick chuckled loudly. “That’s a woman, that is.”

“To business then?” Ilya cut in with another throat-clear, reminding himself to bring that back up to Azrael later, when they were properly alone.

 

While the transaction in and of itself only took about twenty minutes, Maverick extended his stay. Ilya seemed a bit put out, but Azrael didn’t mind the man’s stories. He spent about an hour regaling them with the epic of how he obtained the leeches. There was quite a lot of talk about the elusive sand beasts that plagued the isles, causing him to nearly lose three good men in the process. Az got the feeling Ilya spent a lot of time around pirates who didn’t necessarily want to call themselves pirates, but rather ‘ocean entrepreneurs,’ as Rick put it.

They went through about three kettles of tea each during that time, and Ilya had been right, the pomegranate green tea was wonderful. She made a mental note to stock some at the shop.

The three headed out together, and Rick departed with a dashing kiss to Azrael’s hand, and a hefty handshake to Ilya. Then it was just Azrael and Ilya alone again, the moon already high, signaling the end of a surprisingly pleasant day.

“Allow me to walk you home,” he held his elbow out to her again, smiling wide when she took it, this time without hesitation.

Their walk home was much less talkative than before. But both Ilya and Azrael were comfortable, saying something when it was necessary, and otherwise remaining quiet to just enjoy each other’s company. The day had flown by, and while Az was thankful to be stress-free and content for the first time in a little while, she was also sad that they’d have to part again soon.

Neither one wanted to linger on the thought. But it was unavoidable once they made it to the water fountain.

With a slight pull, the pair were gently dragged to the water. The fountain was still running, the water quiet and cool as they watched it glisten against the stones. The moonlight made the bottom of the fountain shimmer with hundreds of coins. Quite a few of them belonged to Azrael.

“I guess Nevivon isn’t the only country to believe in wishes,” Ilya smiled as he began rummaging around in his pockets. He released Azrael’s arm, and once he was done searching, presented two Hesperian drachma with a little “A-ha!”

Az took one of the coins and grinned, then turned to the water. “On three?”

“One…” Ilya started.

“Two…”

“Three!” they both shouted with glee, then tossed their coins into the water with a small splash.

Azrael stared after where her coin had disappeared beneath the surface and sighed, smiling. At first, she’d wanted to wish the night could last forever, but that thought was suddenly interrupted by the wish that Ilya would never be away from her for too long. “Ilya—” she turned to look back at him, and was cut off by the sudden press of his lips against hers.

It was only a moment, and Ilya pulled away with wide eyes like he’d surprised even himself. “I’m…forgive me for being so forward, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

But Az just grinned, and blushed, and tried to hide behind her hair. “Please don’t apologize,” she giggled, then cleared her throat. “Shall we?” she gestured towards home, hoping to steer the conversation in a different direction for now.

He wasn’t entirely sure what to make of her response, but she didn’t seem angry. That was enough for Ilya, and he nodded, smiling softly.

The walk from the fountain to the shop was incredibly short. “This is me,” Azrael announced as she stood in front of the door, and turned to look at Ilya. “Thank you.”

“No woman should be left to walk home on her own,” he bowed dramatically.

But Az laughed, and shook her head. “Not just for that, but…all of today. Things haven’t been the easiest around here lately. You really helped me smile again. You have no idea how grateful I am for that.”

There was suddenly a tight, hot, quivering sort of pressure in Ilya’s chest, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. But when he found himself again, he smiled wide, his gaze soft. “I can say the same about you. Today was a treat.”

They fell quiet again, and Azrael started to turn as if she was going to unlock the door. But she paused then, her gaze moving from the ground, to Ilya’s chest, and then his face again. She wasn’t sure what her own expression looked like, but she had a feeling it looked exactly like the expression on his face.

It was impossible to say who moved first. Like the night of the masquerade, Ilya and Azrael moved together to the music only they could hear. Their lips were soft and warm, and yet intense and passionate. Ilya’s hands cupped Azrael’s cheeks, and she shivered at the coolness of his gloves against her skin. It wasn’t long before her arms were threaded around his neck, trying to drag her further up when she couldn’t stand on tip-toe any higher. But Ilya met her ferocity with his own, and accidently pushed Az’s small frame against the door as he leaned down, and wrapped his arms around her.

They were a mess of heavy breathing, of hands that tangled in hair, fingers that left goosebumps as they grazed over exposed skin. They were heat and saliva, never quite getting enough of the other. Azrael could feel Ilya’s hands explore her round bottom, tugging up her skirt just a bit. His lips against her neck made her breath catch, and she responded by gripping the back of his hair and pulling hard.

“A-ah…” Ilya couldn’t even finish saying her name as he felt Azrael pull his hair. He tensed and melted all at once, pushing her even harder against the door.

She would’ve apologized for pulling so hard if it hadn’t been for the blatantly pleased noise Ilya made, and while Az struggled with not doing it again, she knew if they didn’t stop now, they wouldn’t stop at all. As much as she wanted to keep going, there was no telling if Thalia was home. Or worse, Asra. “We should stop,” she sighed breathlessly, gently pushing against him.

“Mmm…” Ilya breathed into her neck, kissing it again. “Why should we?”

“Because I’m asking,” she breathed deeply. “And because we barely know each other.”

She had a point. Still, Ilya leaned up, and looked down at Azrael with a look that was unmistakably ravenous. “We can get to know each other even better,” he implied.

Az leaned up, leaving a soft peck on his lips. “Yes, but not tonight.”

It wasn’t entirely what Ilya wanted, but he nodded. Taking a deep breath, he took a step back, and allowed the both of them to regain their composure. Besides, she wasn’t saying it would never happen, just that she didn’t want it to happen right then.

“Thank you again, Ilya,” Az smiled as she turned to unlock the door, the night cool now that her skin was losing warmth.

Ilya felt cold too, but it just made him want her even more. “When can I see you again?” he asked before she could disappear.

Azrael turned a bit, waiting in the doorway. She hummed loudly, teasing a bit before grinning at him. “I’ll let you know,” she shrugged, and disappeared into the dark shop.

Ilya blinked, but laughed in spite of himself as he turned around and headed off. He was partly convinced the witch had cast some spell on him, and yet, he was even more convinced he didn’t care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Arcana Timeline Notes (SPOILERS):
> 
> Okay honestly, there's not a lot to add to the canon plot in this chapter. This is really just me shipping Julian and my MC super hard, and finally coming up with all the backstory for their first meeting. I think the most canon-y stuff you'll find is just me listing off places Julian has visited, some made-up, but some based on known regions in the Arcana world.
> 
> I also wanted to explore the general attitude of healers during this time in the plot. In the game's present timeline, we know that it's pretty 50/50 as far as opinions on magic users go. I figured that realistically, it would make sense if people started to really lose faith in magic-based healing during the plague, since people who were using magic to heal wouldn't have been able to save people infected by the virus. It would also make sense for people to start listening to doctors more, especially if they were bringing a slew of new medical information with them. Just ideas, obviously these are just my headcanons.
> 
> There is a lot of headcanon here for how Julian and Portia grew up, also put together from their wiki articles. I know it was mentioned, I believe by Mazelinka, that the siblings were shipwrecked, and that she took care of them and other children. I figured Julian and Portia would come out with the attitudes they grew into based on the interactions with their caretakers and other children I came up with. But that's just my take.
> 
> As a sort of an Easter Egg, I wanted to explore that little cafe or whatever what Julian mentioned in his route, the one that was turned into the theater. I don't remember there being a name (I could've just missed it), but I wanted to explore what the place may have looked like before it became a theater. I figured that since it was so hidden, and a bit shady, Julian probably did business there at one point or another.
> 
> As far as plot goes though, that's about it. The rest of this is me squealing over the sexual tension between slippery boy and the MC. Trust me, this is just a taste, but I'm a SLUT for story, so I'll probably keep waxing poetic about them for a bit before the real fun begins lol
> 
> As always, thank you guys for reading! Comments, questions, concerns, critique, etc are always welcome :D


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